


Unexpected Positions

by Biorcry



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Office, One Night Stands, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22216456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biorcry/pseuds/Biorcry
Summary: Needing to blow off some steam, Lexa invites a girl she just met back to her place. It's supposed to be a one night stand, surely nothing will change that.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 195
Kudos: 624





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all. This fic is honestly just fun smut with hopefully a good enough plot to carry it through. I'm still planning on writing something for the Holidays fic that I have, but this popped into my head and I thought it'd be fun to write it. So, without further ado.

“Lemme ask you something, Clarke,” I say with a slight slur from across the cocktail table. 

“Go ahead, Lexa,” she answers as she runs her pointer along one of my fingers that are wrapped around my glass.

“How would you feel if I asked you back to my place?” And I know that if it were any other day, where it wasn’t so shit, where I wasn’t a bit intoxicated, that I wouldn’t even dare ask that question. But I did have a shit day and this person I just met did challenge me to go shot for shot with her. She’s hot and I never turn down a challenge. 

“Wow,” she giggles. “No beating around the bush, huh?” 

“Well, technically, I would try my hardest not to go around it,” I say with a stupid smile. My inebriated brain’s attempt at a joke. Terrible. At least I have the decency to blush about it. But, I think she might be my dream girl based solely on her reaction to my very bad joke. 

Clarke laughs. “Oh my god, living off those looks, huh?” Her mouth might be saying something insulting, but she’s not taking her hand back, just adding more fingers to touch me. However much of an ass I’m making of myself, it’s at least working. 

“You gonna answer my question?” I ask as I let go of my glass and interlace our fingers a bit. 

“You gonna answer mine?” she challenges with such a cute smile that I forget for a moment that her question is in jest and I contort my face as I try to remember what her question even was. 

One second…

Two seconds… 

Shooting a glare that has no harshness behind it at her, I take my hand away. That response only makes her laugh again and I can’t stop myself from joining her before saying, “Come home with me?” through dying giggles. And there’s the slightest bit of apprehension that flashes across her face, so I clarify, “Just for tonight.”

Five minutes later in the back of an Uber, I feel a hand on my thigh, stroking up and down, moving in circles. My whole body on fire wanting to take her right now, but of sound enough mind to not want to put on a show for the driver. I turn my head and lean into her, my lips so close to her ear that I accidentally graze them causing her to shiver. 

“Keep it in your pants, Clarke. We’re almost there.” 

“Why would I do that, Lexa?” she whispers as she slides her hand up further. She’s going to kill me. 

Grabbing her hand, I turn to face her again to scold her or chastise her or something, but she goes straight for my neck, burying her head there. Inhaling for mere seconds before kissing me softly, nibbling softly, biting me softly and I let out a low moan. She smiles against my neck, I guess she liked that reaction.

The ride to my place was only about eight minutes, but with the way Clarke was touching me, delighting in torturing me as I lamely attempted to fight her off, it felt like forever. The walk up to my apartment was even worse. Walls everywhere for me to push her up against, but trying my best to stay focused on our destination. 

She grips my hips from behind as I fumble to find my keys. Her breath touching the back of my neck before her lips do and I feel my skin rise. Her hands find their way under my shirt and they feel so good that I lose my train of thought more than a couple times. 

Finally inside, I turn the tables on her. I push her up against the door, loving the moan that flies out as I lean into her, our bodies meeting in such close contact. I suck on her neck as she unbuttons my shirt, taking it off of me in one swift motion. My hands reach down to unzip her pants and they fall with my assistance. 

Quicker than I thought possible we’re both half naked. Since we traded off on stripping each other, she’s naked on the bottom half and for me it’s the top. I grip her hips and walk us back to my couch, falling more than sitting after feeling it hit the back of my knees. I take her with me, her legs on either side, giggles falling out of us as I thud against the couch. 

“That was so smooth, Lexa,” she says before sucking on my bottom lip. 

“Shh, I don’t like it when you talk,” I punctuate my words with a finger to her mouth which she bites in retaliation before taking my hand and putting it behind her back. Getting the message, I unclasp the last piece of clothing that she has on and she takes care of the rest, throwing it god knows where and who cares. 

“That’s impressive,” she says, grabbing my hands from her sides and moving them to her chest. She’s so fucking hot and getting hotter with every squeeze to her breasts, with every tweak of her nipples that makes her moan and groan and move her hips against me. 

“You should see what else I can do with one hand,” I smirk before leaning in to bite her neck. “It’ll astound you.” I think I’m still a bit tipsy because if my mouth wasn’t so busy, I’d be laughing at that joke. 

She giggles. “I insist.” She grips the back of my head with one hand, bringing me in closer, encouraging me to do whatever I want to her neck. The other grabbing onto the couch for support. “You’ve been living off those looks for far too long,” she squeaks when I bite her with some ferocity. 

Trying to prove my point, I slide my right hand down until I reach the whole point of this encounter, my left going to her side to hold her in place. The sound she makes when I hit the right spot, the way she moves to get me to continuously hit that spot, the way she looks as she tosses her head back before looking at me with the darkest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, fucking hell it’s going to be the death of me. 

If ever I was told that I could only see one image that I could picture in my mind while pleasuring myself for the rest of my life, it would be this image of Clarke, sweating, biting her lip as she concentrates on what I’m doing to her, her breasts bouncing with each of her movements.

I lean forward to capture her nipple, tasting it, sucking on it, my tongue swirling over it. And that seems to be the final factor to her undoing. I feel it first as she starts to convulse around my fingers. I hear it second, first with silence followed by my name screamed out amongst a flurry of expletives. And I feel it again as she falls into me, her head buried in my neck, her wetness coating my fingers. 

“Fuck…” she breathes out as she rests her head on my shoulder, inhaling my neck again. She seems to like to do that and I like that she does. Her mouth lingers there, her lips brushing against me, her tongue licking up to my ear. “I’m still waiting for you to astound me,” she whispers before capturing my earlobe. 

Really? She’s going to try to say that? 

I know what she’s doing, I know that she’s baiting me so I can ‘prove’ myself to her, even though I know for a damn fact I did a good job. The evidence is still on my hand and if the scratches I felt on the back of my neck marked me, then there’s some evidence there, too. But when she looks at me with those hooded eyes and she starts palming my breasts, I don’t care. I want to show her what I can do. 

Grasping her right hip, I guide her, moving her against the fingers still surrounded by her. She starts making the same noises almost instantly, following my lead above me. I meet her movements, doing the same things she does. When she retreats, so do I, when she returns I do too with intensity, fucking her harder than before and receiving deeper moans as my reward. 

If I thought for even a split second after she first came that it couldn’t get any better, I’m proven wrong when she tightens around me again, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her expletives louder as she makes eye contact with me before throwing her head back. I sink my teeth into her newly exposed skin and feel her whole body trembling around me. This time is longer than the first and each suction and bite to her neck causing tremor after tremor out of her. Until she pushes me away, and even then I want to continue, but she begs me not to. The begging, of course, makes me want to do it even more, but I refrain. 

She sits up on her knees. “Out... Lexa… I– No more.”

I help keep her balanced as I do what she says, shaking my hand out once it’s free to get it to feel normal again. “Yep, great sentence structure, Clarke,” I say as I grab her ass, pulling her as close as possible to me. And I can tell she’s still recovering when she has no witty comeback. I like that. 

Letting her come back to me, I trail kisses along her chest, down to her stomach, back up to her neck. My hands gliding up and down her back, causing her skin to rise to my touch. It’s when I feel her responding to my touches again, moaning, that I start to reach down once more. 

She stops me, though and there’s a part of me that almost whines about it, but I control that urge quickly. I still want Clarke to find me attractive. She stands on unsteady legs and lends me a hand to do the same and I follow, even though I really just want her to straddle me again. 

Her hands move to the last barrier between us, making quick work of it before gripping my hips and turning me around. The first nip at my back is a surprise and I can’t stifle the squeak that escapes my lips, but as she continues I get used to the feeling. She licks her way up to the back of my neck as her right hand makes its way to my front. 

“Kneel on the couch, Lexa.” It’s so direct, so in control, so hot. But I don’t take orders, I give them. 

“No.” I try, but I don’t know how long my resolve will last when she’s touching me like this, nibbling on my ear, running her fingers teasingly above where I want her the most. My legs are already jelly and with the slightest push on my lower back, I end up doing exactly as she says with my hands gripping the back of the sofa. 

That didn’t take long at all. 

“I admire your defiance,” she giggles as she smooths her hands over my ass and if I didn’t want her so much, I wouldn’t let her get away with it. 

She’s a tease. I find that out rather quickly when she rakes her nails down my back then up my sides. Back down over my chest, neglecting my nipples entirely, past my stomach until she reaches where I’m desperate for her now. Pushing her front into me from behind, she ignores my soft pleas and continues to run her hands all over me. 

“Clarke,” I growl as she skirts past my center once more. To which I get a soft chuckle. A fucking chuckle. “It’s gonna be my turn again soon,” I choke out. 

“Oh.” I can hear the smugness in her voice. “You won’t be able to move when I’m done with you.” 

If there were any doubt about who is in charge at this moment, that would fly out the window as soon as the sound I make at her words flies out of my mouth. She places a hand between my thighs, tapping on them and I do what she’s silently telling me to do, my knees inching further apart.

One finger glides against me, inside me, but just the tip. Against me once more, inside all the way. My head drops forward, landing on one of my hands. It’s not enough, but just enough to keep me on the edge. But I don’t want to ride the edge, I want to fall over it. 

“Clarke,” I moan as I move my body backward, trying to get as much of her as I can. “More, please.” 

“So polite.” She’s enjoying this way too much and I’m about to protest when I feel another finger join the first. She moves with precision, she moves like an expert, she moves like she knows me and better than anyone I’ve ever been with. How is that possible?

I can’t believe I said that this was only going to be one night. 

I’m close and I know that she can feel it. That’s the last thought I have before my legs start to quiver, my arms start to shake and I bite my own hand, my face buried in the couch that I’m urgently clinging to. 

#####

My back hits the mattress just as Clarke climbs off of me and I think, maybe for the first time tonight, that I couldn’t possibly go one more time. I turn my head to her, the words dying in my mouth when my brain registers the image in front of me. Messy blonde curls, chest heaving, swollen lips. I gulp. Maybe I can’t get enough of her after all.

Flexing my fingers, my hands itch to touch her again and I’m about to reach over to run fingertips over smooth skin when she pushes herself up and swings her legs to the side, her feet touching the floor soon after.

I follow her with my eyes as she leaves the room for a moment, not without throwing a smile over her shoulder first. 

While she’s gone I start to think about what just happened. I honestly never thought that I’d ever put myself in this sort of situation. I’ve never been so forward in my life, I don’t think I even wanted to be either, Clarke just felt too good to pass up.

My thoughts are interrupted when she comes back, still completely naked, but holding all her clothes we scattered around the house. Feeling unashamed, I let my eyes roam over her body, enjoying the way her cheeks turn a light shade of pink at my intruding gaze. For a second I think she’s coming back to bed with me, so I’m surprised when she goes into the bathroom instead. I guess this is it? 

What do I do now? What is the etiquette for something like this? I’ve never done anything like this. Not just fucking someone the first time meeting them, but also the whole one night stand thing. Do I offer her something to eat? Do I let her sleep with me until the morning? Can I ask her if she wants to go again before leaving?

Then again, she’s obviously getting dressed which means she’s ready to leave… I think. Do I offer her a ride or is that weird? I could, at the very least, get her an Uber to take her home. There’s nothing wrong with getting her a ride and maybe it’d be appreciated.

I nod my head to myself, settling on that idea. I think it’s a nice gesture. Now convinced of how attentive I’m being, I reach over to grab my phone from the nightstand and request a ride, leaving the address field empty so she can tell the driver where she wants to go.

The bathroom door opens a couple of minutes later and I look at her, lamenting the fact that she’s now fully dressed, hair back in place, no signs of our night together except for a reddening spot I can see peeking from under her collar.

“Hey,” I smile at her as she approaches the bed. 

“Hey,” she says, returning the smile and sitting on the edge of the mattress. She glides a finger across my chest and that light touch is enough to make me want to repeat everything we just did. Her blue eyes darken as her touch becomes more insistent. “It’d be much harder for me to leave if I didn’t have to wake up early tomorrow,” she adds, her finger making its way to swirl around my pert nipple. 

She feels so good all thoughts escape my mind, suddenly forgetting that she’s leaving. I wonder if I can convince her to stay just a little bit longer? Before I can even voice my question, a buzz comes from my nightstand and I remember about her ride. I look at my phone and confirm I just got a notification saying the car is here. 

“I got you an Uber, it’s already outside,” I whisper, giving her my best charming smile. I expect her to look grateful, maybe touched even at my nice gesture, but instead all touch from her ceases. I can’t help but miss the contact immediately. 

She stands faster than a soldier when their commander appears and I wonder what happened to make her do that. “Are you serious?” her voice is almost cold, and none of the playfulness or tone that she’s had for me all evening is in that question. Maybe requesting a ride for her wasn’t a good idea? I think I messed up. 

“Uh…” 

“Okay,” she says before I can even say anything coherent and I may not have known her for too long, but she clearly looks upset. Yup, I did mess up. “Thanks.” 

Just like that she’s gone, leaving me to wonder what happened. She was clearly getting ready to leave, which is why she gathered all her clothes and got dressed. So what exactly is so wrong about what I did?

#####

Between the drinks I had last night and the lack of sleep, I barely manage to drag my feet into work. Not one to usually go out in the middle of the week I’m definitely regretting some of my choices from the night before.

My overall mood must carry over into the building, because as soon as I walk in the first thing out of Anya’s mouth is, “You look like shit.” 

“Always a charmer, Anya,” I mumble as I hand her one of the coffee cups in my hand. It’s funny, I hired her to help me out, and she’s great at her job, but she has always refused to get me my coffee in the morning. Somehow, I ended up being the one to bring it in for both of us. 

She follows me as I walk past her desk into my office, taking the seat across from me like she usually does so we can talk about things to come in the day and to go over my schedule. But mostly just to hang out and talk until the day gets busy. 

“A glowing shit though, Lexa,” she says, taking a sip from her coffee. I’m unsure if she thinks that’s a compliment or not. “You didn’t do anything stupid, did you?”

I groan, not knowing how to answer that. “Define ‘stupid’ for me.”

She shrugs. “Something you wouldn’t normally do.” 

Let’s see. Would I normally go out in the middle of the week? No. Would I normally take a stranger to my house to have sex with them? No.

“Why would you even ask that?” I shoot Anya a confused look, like I don’t know why she’s bringing this up right now.

A scoff is all she answers with and yeah, okay. Maybe she has a good reason to suspect I may have done something ‘stupid’, as she so eloquently put it. But she’s wrong.

Getting an update on my ex-girlfriend’s status surely didn’t impact what I normally do. It’s been over a month since we broke up, so why should I even care if she’s engaged to someone else? It’s not like her getting engaged so quickly makes me feel like I was some kind of stand-in until she found the right person.

And the fact that we were friends with her now-fiancée while we were still together doesn’t bother me either. Why should it? It didn’t and it doesn’t. 

I sigh. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Okay.” And that’s what I love about Anya, her willingness to drop a subject when she senses I don’t want to talk about it. Sometimes she doesn’t let me off the hook that easily, but I’m grateful today isn’t one of those times. “Anyway,” she says, leaning back against the chair. “You know that marketing position we’ve been interviewing for for the last couple of weeks?” I nod. “There’s been a slight change of plans.”

I look at her, furrow to my brow. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, they’ve added a new candidate for the position. You’re interviewing them in...” she checks her watch, “about five minutes, and they’re going to get the job. You’ll go through the rest of the interviews you had lined up as normal so that it looks like the company tried to find the best talent.”

“What?” I ask, my voice rising slightly. I peek over Anya’s shoulder to make sure I didn’t catch anyone’s attention. “Who is this candidate and why are we just hiring them no matter what?” Unless we suddenly received an application from a well-sought after candidate, I don’t understand why they already got the job.

“She’s the daughter of the vice president of the company, so.”

Ah. There it is. A nepotism hire, they’re the worst. Usually wholly unqualified, but getting the job anyway and then they continue to fail up the chain. Then when they get bored they fuck off without leaving any notice and I get stuck fumbling to hire someone quickly to replace them. 

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I settle my elbow on my desk. “Great,” I grumble. This is a crappy start to an already crappy day. I should not have drank so much. “Couldn’t they have figured this out sooner so we didn’t waste all this time interviewing people who never had a chance?” I don’t really expect Anya to answer me, but she shrugs anyway. 

“Do you need to go over her resume?” Anya asks, handing me a folder which I assume contains everything I don’t even need to know. “If she’s here should I hold her off?”

“Nah, I’ll just go over it with her, it’s not like it matters.” These are the days where I hate my job the most. There’s incredibly talented people out there who could do great things in this position. Instead, we’re hiring the vice president’s daughter just because she exists.

“As you wish,” Anya says, standing up. I’m expecting her to leave right away, but instead she regards me for a second. “Don’t think we’re not talking about this,” she says, motioning at my whole being, “over lunch.”

I shoo her, burying my head in my hands as she closes the door behind her, willing the headache that’s growing between my eyes to go away. Only a few minutes go by before I hear a knock and I stand to greet the person coming in, like I always do.

“Come in.” I straighten out my clothes before plastering on my fake smile.

Anya opens the door to let the woman in and my whole body malfunctions. 

Familiar blue eyes look at me in surprise, “Lexa?”

_Well, shit._


	2. Chapter Two

I know I’m staring, but I can’t do anything about it. I wonder if I look as stupid as I feel, my mouth agape, frozen in place. I can’t get myself to move from my position no matter how many times I scream at myself to do so in my head. 

“Uh, Lexa?” I hear Anya trying to get through to me, but even that’s not working. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Clarke says, sticking out her hand for me to take. I guess she’s just trying to pretend she doesn’t know me. Like she didn’t have her fingers inside me less than twelve hours ago. That prompts me to finally shake off the shock and connect our hands. 

“Nice to meet you too, Clarke.” There’s a bit of a sting to my words and I can tell, with that stupid upturn on one corner of her mouth, that she’s enjoying this. Her eyes are dancing as she scans my face and I don’t know what she’s expecting to find there.

“You good?” Anya checks on me once more and I nod back.

“Get the door on your way out,” I say offhandedly and receive a brow lift in return. I’d know that look anywhere; she did not like that. “Please?” That remedies the situation enough for her to leave without slamming the door on me. 

Clarke’s blue eyes are still on me, but no longer on my face, mainly on my chest and I can feel my body flush with heat. “So polite.” Her voice low and sultry, just like last night when she said those same exact fucking words and I find myself swallowing again before pointing to the chair that Anya was previously in. 

“Let’s just get down to it,” I say, trying to be as professional about this as I can. 

“I thought we did plenty of that last night,” is her quick reply. 

I remember that was one of the things I enjoyed about her last night. A lot. That she could come up with a witty retort for practically every stupid or non-stupid thing that I said to her. It showed me that we had pretty great rapport and made me realize I wanted to spend more time playing around with her. But now is not the time for that. Now is not the time for me to be nervous and blushing. 

I have to do my job, even if this interview is a farce, so I take my seat across from her. “I’m going to choose to ignore that comment.”

“So, you like having a choice?” she says, eyebrow raised and I’m having a hell of a time reading her. As an HR manager with a degree in psychology I should be able to, that’s kind of my thing. That reply makes no sense to me, though.

“Do you want to talk about last night first, Clarke?” 

She taps her chin, pretending to ponder and I can’t help but think that she’s pretty cute. Even though I know that I shouldn’t be thinking that because we are soon to be coworkers. Also, she obviously hates me so I definitely shouldn’t be thinking that. 

“What happened last night?” She bites her bottom lip. “It was pretty unmemorable, so you’ll have to refresh my memory.” 

Okay, I know for a fact that she’s lying through her teeth. She just brought it up herself and nothing we did last night could be classified as unmemorable. There is not a chance in hell, with how long we were together, with how many times we both climaxed, that anyone anywhere would say it was unmemorable. 

Glancing over at her and catching the look in her eye, I know that she’s trying to rile me up. I know it and it sucks that I’m the one who has to keep their cool because Clarke wants to be a jerk. It’s really hard not to respond in kind. She wouldn’t like it if I told her that I faked it with her or something. 

I didn’t, but that’s not the point. 

“Fine,” I growl out and that seems to get a heated reaction in her. Like, if we were back at my place, she’d be in my bed again because of the sound I just uttered. 

Nope. Keep it professional. Professional thoughts. 

“Moving on, tell me something about yourself.” I look down at my hands, paper and pen at the ready, awaiting her answer so that I can record it. I know that I should be maintaining eye contact because it compels the person I’m interviewing to give honest answers that later I can judge on a scale, but when I look at her all I can see are pools of blue burning into me. That throws me off. 

“I have a weakness for green eyes.” 

She’s unrelenting and I can feel another blush, this time reaching the tip of my ears. 

“Why are you interested in this position?” 

“Would you prefer missionary instead?” she asks with as much innocence as she can fake. “I know you liked missionary.”

I choke on my tongue. Pushing through.

“On a scale of one to ten, where do you rate yourself as a leader?”

She’s silent for a moment and I have to look up at her to see what’s holding her back. It seems that all she wants is my attention so that she can shrug and say, “You tell me.” With such a penetrating stare that it leaves my mouth dry. 

I hate this. I hate all of this. I’ve met pretty girls that have thrown me for a loop. I’ve met pretty girls that have thrown me off kilter. I’ve met pretty girls that have left me speechless, that have left me so brainless that I can’t function or turn me on so much I can hardly contain myself. 

But never all at once and for damn sure never during an interview. The fact that she knows that she’s getting this job no matter what lets her think that she can say whatever she wants. It’s frustrating as hell. How am I supposed to get through all the questions?

I deliberate in my mind for a few seconds on whether or not I should just end this joke of an interview. Let’s try one more question.

“Do you consider yourself a team player?”

“I prefer one on one, but if the right person has a persuasive enough argument,” she lets that hang in the air. This is ridiculous and getting both of us absolutely nowhere. She’s not taking this seriously and I’ve already wasted enough time.

“You know what?” I drop the pen in my hand on my desk, my heart is racing and my body heated. I’m going to regret what I’m going to say next, aren’t I? “This is exactly the kind of answers I’d expect from someone who is only going to get this job because of who their mom is.” 

Yup.

She lets out an unsteady breath and then another, her left hand opening and closing as she crosses her legs. I can feel the heat shot at me through ice cold eyes. 

“I was born and raised here in Seattle and I perceive myself to be confident and hard working. I have a masters degree in design and a certificate in digital marketing. Those skills are paramount to this position. If anything, I’m overqualified, but I’ve chosen to use my talents here because I want to help the company that my mom helped build stay relevant. The current marketing department has made no attempts to build an online presence and I’m going to be the one to change all that.

“On a scale of one to ten," she continues, barely stopping to take a breath, "I’d rate myself confidently at a nine, though I know you’re looking for something lower, like an eight or seven, because for some reason, that’s what you guys like to hear. But I’ll never sell myself short.

“And as far as being a team player, I love working with a team. I’m social, which you already know, Lexa. I get along great with others and I love talking through ideas with a group because having more than one opinion, especially in a creative setting, is the only way to get the ideal product.” She glares at me before faking a smile. “I also have a pretty good memory, so.” 

The only thing I can do is blink at her. 

“How many more questions do you have?” 

I take a deep breath before letting it out, touching my ear for a second and willing my beating heart to return to its normal cadence. “That depends on if you’re going to actually answer them.” 

“Fair enough.” She uncrosses her legs and sits up straight, seemingly posturing for interview mode. 

#####

“Remember when you asked if I did anything stupid?” I ask as I sit down at the break room’s circular table, Anya joining me with her own lunch of a turkey sandwich. 

“Mhm.” She nods before taking a bite of her food. 

“Well, that something stupid was…” I lean in close to Anya so that she can hear me without strain. I don’t want anyone in this building to hear anything I’m about to say. What would they think of me, the person who tells everyone here that they can’t have relationships with each other, if they knew that I slept with the VP’s daughter? “Clarke,” I whisper.

Anya’s brows knit together as she chews quickly before swallowing so that she can ask, “Are you calling Clarke stupid?” She does not pick up on the hint of keeping her voice low as she practically shouts her question.

Waiting to see if the actual meaning of what I said registers, I stare at her for a couple of seconds, but she only lifts her brow. “Come on, Anya. Get there faster.” 

“You’re being weird, Lexa,” she says, putting her hand on my shoulder to nudge me back over to my seat.

Leaning back in my chair, I huff at her. There’s no way that she’s not getting what I’m saying and for a moment I think that she must be messing with me. Anya and I have been friends for quite some time and she understands me more than anyone I’ve known. Surely she should get this, unless it’s difficult for her to wrap her head around the fact that I actually have sex. That could be it, let me be a bit more forward. 

“Last night,” I try again, keeping my voice low, but not leaning over anymore. “I met Clarke at a bar.”

She looks at me, eyebrows knitting together again before realization finally hits her. “You did not.”

“I did.”

Her eyes widen for a second as she takes in the information I dumped on her. Then she starts laughing, first low and slow, crescendoing until her whole body is shaking and all I can do is glare at her. It’s just my luck my closest friend lacks any empathy. “Oh god,” she says between chuckles, shaking her head at me. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

“I didn’t know who she was!” I try to defend myself because someone has to. “I didn’t even know that Ms. Griffin had a kid until this morning.” I facepalm as reality starts to set in. “I am going to get fired if anyone finds out.” 

It takes Anya a few extra seconds to notice my worry and anxiety, but when she does, her grin fades and she looks at me with a serious expression on her face.

“What are you going to do?” she asks me and for a split second I wish she would go back to laughing, because I’ve been trying to avoid asking myself that same question.

The interview was awkward and not ideal for a workplace, but unlike anyone else who would behave as Clarke did, she’s still going to get the position she came for. And maybe after today, I won’t see her more than in passing for a few seconds, but what if one day I do something that pisses her off? Something that I don’t even know would offend her, like when she left last night and she tells people about our time together? That would totally discredit me and I’d be fired for sure.

Stopping my thoughts from derailing, I sigh. “I don’t know. What can I do? It’s not like I can say she shouldn’t get the job.” Even though I know my input would be taken seriously if it were any other person. 

“Right. Tough situation you fucked yourself into, friend,” Anya says and I shoot her a glare. Why do I confide in her about anything? She shrugs at me and takes another bite of her sandwich as I stare at the salad that sits in front of me, untouched. “Well, how was it?”

“Anya,” I glare at her. “I’m not going to give you the details of our–”

She shakes her head. “Ew, stop. I don’t want to hear that either. I meant, what’s the deal with you guys? Dating, taking it slow…?”

My cheeks are red, I can feel it. “Uhh…” Anya looks at me expectantly. “It was…” I don’t know why it’s so hard to say. Why should I be embarrassed about wanting just sex? “We agreed to just the night,” I mumble, avoiding Anya’s gaze. I can still hear her gasp, though.

“You, Lexa Woods, had a one night stand?” She smacks my arm, almost as if she’s proud of me. Definitely not the reaction I thought I was going to get. 

“It was supposed to be,” I shrug. “I wasn’t counting on her reappearing in my life at all, let alone the next day.” Although, if circumstances had been different, if maybe she hadn’t left so upset and so quickly, I would have asked for her number. I wouldn’t have minded repeating what we did. If we weren’t going to be working together, of course. 

But we are going to be working together and now that I know who she is, there’s no way that anything will ever happen between us again. Ever. And if it sounds like I’m trying to convince myself, I’m not because I don’t need convincing. It’s true.

“Well, then what’s the big deal?” Anya asks, and I wish I could see things the way she does. “You guys don’t even have to talk about it again.”

Running a hand through my hair, I nod. “You’d think, right? But during the interview she kept saying things about it. Well, until I called her out on it.” I blush at my comment. “I don’t think it went over too well with her,” I say, thinking about the way she looked at me.

I never got the phrase ‘If looks could kill’ until that very moment. 

“What did you say?” Anya says, her left brow much higher on her forehead than her right.

I shrug, trying to downplay it. “Nothing.” That damn eyebrow is still in place and I sigh. “Okay, I mean, it was something along the lines of her only having the opportunity because of who her mom is,” I finish with a squeak at the end. Shit, that doesn’t make it sound innocent at all. 

“Lexa!” Anya whispers harshly.

“I know, I know,” I say, burying my face in my hands. “I shouldn’t have said anything, but Anya, she was saying things that if you had heard her, even you’d have blushed.”

She laughs. “Please. There’s nothing she could say to make me blush.” And she’s probably right, but if I wasn’t in this dilemma I would ask her what she thought about Clarke’s answer to my question about teamwork. I digress. “Why do you think she was acting like that? Didn’t you guys have a good night?”

“I thought we did,” I answer, burying my face as far into my hands as possible so that Anya can’t see the way my cheeks are turning an even darker shade of red. “Until the end, anyway.” I still remember how disappointed I was when she withdrew her hand from me. 

“What do you mean ‘until the end’?” Anya asks, reaching over to force me to lower my hands. I look at her as I answer, but it’s hard to maintain eye contact.

“Well, I’m pretty sure she got mad before she left.”

Anya frowns. “Okay, Lexa.” She’s going to scold me. “What did you do?” There it is.

“What makes you think I did anything?” I ask, offended. It could have been something Clarke did or just some external force.

Anya sighs. “Lexa, I know you.”

“Ouch, that stings,” I say as she smacks my shoulder. 

“Let me finish,” she insists and I nod. “I know that your encounter with Clarke isn’t really your kind of thing. Maybe you did something that you didn’t think was so bad, but you know, was,” she says with a chuckle. “What happened when you feel she got upset?”

I shrug. “She was touching me-”

“Gross.” Anya unnecessarily interjects and I give her a pointed look in return before recounting again.

“She said she had to be somewhere, which I now know was here,” I remark and Anya titters. “My phone went off and I told her her Uber was ready,” I end with another shrug.

“You…” Anya starts, but pauses for a second. “She asked you to get her an Uber?”

I shake my head. “No, of course not. I just thought it would be the nice thing to do.”

“Oh, Lexa…” Anya says, and where she sounded like she was scolding me before, now her voice just sounds full of pity.

“What? She was getting dressed,” I try to explain.

“Did she say she was going to ask for a ride? Or did she say anything about leaving?”

“No,” I reply, trying to piece it together to understand where she’s going with this. “But, like I said, she was getting dressed in the bathroom.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing at me once again and I’m really starting to dislike that sound. “Of course she left mad, Lexa. You practically kicked her out,” she says, shaking her head. I don’t like how many times she has shaken her head at me today.

Frowning, I go over the events in my head. I really had the best intentions in mind when I requested the Uber, but maybe there’s a chance it did come off the wrong way. But if she was getting dressed, why would she get mad that I was expecting her to leave? My frown gets deeper as I try to understand. I thought one night stands were supposed to be simple and uncomplicated. This feels like quite the opposite.

“Come on, Lexa. Get there faster,” she repeats the words back at me and I’m starting to wonder why I hang out with her at all.

“Fine,” I say, leaning forward to rest my elbows on the table. “So what do I do now?”

“How about next time you see her you apologize for it and offer her a clean slate? If it was supposed to be a one night stand. I’m sure you both can move past it like it never happened.”

#####

Apologize and wipe the slate clean. I have a feeling it’s easier said than done, but it’s the only real option either of us have. Behaving professionally is pretty much my profession. Though, I don’t know if Clarke is going to do her part. Thinking about what happened from her point of view, I wouldn’t really like me either. And I know what my line of thinking was, but she doesn’t. She must think that I’m an ass. 

The ringing of the phone pulls me out of my thoughts and I answer it. 

“Lexa Woods.” 

“Hi, Ms. Woods, this is Marcus Kane.”

Head of the marketing department. I suppose that means Clarke is finished with her group interviews. 

“Hello, Mr. Kane. What can I help you with?”

“We just finished with Ms. Griffin. Do you have her contract and everything else ready to go?” he asks with an almost imperceptible sigh. But I cue in on it quickly. 

“How did it go?” 

It’s silent on the other end of the line until he takes in a deep breath. “It was fine.” A beat. “She’ll learn along the way, I guess.” If that’s not a glowing endorsement of Clarke, I don’t know what is. 

I assume she was a bit more well-mannered with them than she was with me and I want to learn more about how it went. The begrudging part of me wants to know if they got the same impression of Clarke that I did and the other part of me is hoping that she did well enough.

“Right, well, I do have everything in order, so if you would let Ms. Griffin know–”

“Let me know what?” I hear from the door and it startles me, but I feel like I recover quick enough that she doesn’t notice. 

“I already sent her up there,” Mr. Kane says. He really should have led with that

I glance over at Clarke, pointing to the same chair she occupied four hours earlier, before returning back to the conversation with the man on the phone. 

“Okay, Mr. Kane. If that’s all?”

“That’s all. Thank you, Ms. Woods.” 

Hanging up, I walk over to the door to shut it. I usually don’t have my door closed unless I’m doing interviews so that my very small team can come to me with their questions, but I really don’t want anyone hearing the any part of this conversation. Sitting back at my desk, I turn my attention back to the woman I’ve had running through my mind all morning. 

Let’s start off slow, maybe try to joke with her first? I don’t know. “Um, so… You should sit down for this next part.” 

Clarke looks down at her seated position before fixing confused eyes on me. That was the same level of joke that won her over at the bar, but I guess without some alcohol she doesn’t find me funny anymore. 

“Okay,” I clear my throat. “Out of all the clouds of people I interviewed today, you shined through!” I shoot her the same smile that worked on her last night. Her eyes flash and for a second I detect a flicker of enjoyment, but she buries it quickly. Given that little bit of hope that maybe she doesn’t completely hate me, I gather my courage to start my apology. 

I sigh. “Look, Clarke.” I take my right earlobe between my thumb and index finger, a movement I’ve done since I was a kid to help keep me in check, help to calm me. “I’m sorry.” 

Her brows furrow and the harshness behind her eyes that I’ve noticed since I made my comment about her mom diminishes. Still there, but at least she’s starting to soften up to me. 

“About this morning, too. For saying what I did during our interview. But mostly because of last night.”

“Tell me again about last night. You never refreshed my memory,” she replies with a smirk. She’s taunting me again and it’s a little titillating, if I’m honest with myself. And it’s okay for me to think that, just don’t say it out loud and everything will be fine.

“Ha ha.” I roll my eyes at her before they land on her neck, a little red spot barely covered by concealer peeking at me. “That hickey you’ve been trying to hide all morning should stir your memory enough.” I let out before I can stop myself.

I’ve been so good all day. I’ve been keeping myself in check. I only made one mistake around her and that was when I couldn’t take any more of what she was throwing at me. I don’t know how I could let that one slip.

My cheeks feel like they’re burning from all the blood that rushes there and I divert my gaze from her, finding the most interesting spot I’ve ever seen on the ceiling, but not before catching the smirk that runs across her lips. 

I clear my throat of nothing. “Anyway, can I be candid?”

“Candid? What are you like, eighty?” My gaze snaps back to see her eyes widen as well as her smile and I feel my whole body blush. Is it possible to feel it in your toes? Jesus. 

“Come on, Clarke,” I practically plead and she waves her hand like she’s allowing me to speak. I think I’m starting to hate her. “If I’m honest, I’ve never…” I start chewing on the inside of my cheek, trying to gather the courage to say what I need to to smooth things over with her. “You’re the first person that I’ve…” God, why is this so hard to say?

“Ever had sex with? I could tell.” 

“This is getting old.” 

“Like your vocabulary?”

I’m not one that feels the need to apologize for things, but I thought that what I had done warranted it. But just like every other interaction we’ve had today, she’s not taking anything that I’m saying seriously. This strikes more of a nerve, though, because she’s doing it when I’m trying to be sincere. So, fuck this. 

I take a deep breath so that I can think about what I’m saying before I say it. I need to be able to handle this well because I still have to work with her. One more deep breath for good measure. Reaching into the drawer and pulling out the drawn up contract, I toss it toward her side of the desk.

“Okay, Clarke, lets have you sign these so that we can get you on your way.” It’s like I’m chewing every word I say. 

“So soon?” She looks behind herself toward the closed door before facing me again. “Is my Uber waiting outside already?”

“I was trying to do the nice thing!” I say, exasperated. “Look, we have to be civil with each other since you’re going to be working here. I’m sorry if what I did made you feel like I was kicking you out, that wasn’t my intention, but you have to get over it so that we can at least have a good working and professional relationship, Clarke.” 

Her jaw clenches for a moment before she leans forward, grabbing a pen and signing the piece of paper that goes over her salary and duties, among other things. Then she stands, placing her hands on my desk, leaning forward until she’s only inches away from me. Her perfume tickling my senses and my breaths become unsteady. 

“I’m going to get you to fall into bed with me again,” she says, voice so low it makes my entire body shiver, “just so I can kick you out of it.” She leans back slightly, a devilish smile playing at her lips. Her eyes move down my face and I wonder for a second if she’s looking at my lips, if maybe she’s about to kiss me, but I don’t have time to think about what any of that would mean because she flicks my nose instead. “And then we’ll see how quickly _you_ get over it,” she finishes before turning around, walking out with a slight movement to her hips, leaving me to rub at my nose while I wonder how I’m going to survive working with her.


	3. Chapter Three

"Lexa?"

Looking up from my phone, something I rarely do in elevators, I catch brown eyes on me. For a split second I contemplate telling them to wait until I get into my office to talk about whatever is affecting them at work. I nearly squeeze the two cups of coffee that I’m holding in one arm against my boobs when it registers that Abigail Griffin is staring at me. 

“Uh, yeah, Ms. Griffin.” Damn these Griffin women, surprising me at the worst possible times and throwing me off. _Uh, yeah._ Idiot. I shove my phone into my pocket so that I can give her my full attention, but moving the coffee cups to each hand. 

She shoots me a smile and I start to see the family resemblance. A smile is good, a smile means that she has no ill will toward me and that this is going to be an okay conversation. And that obviously Clarke hasn’t told her anything. 

“Please Lexa, call me Abby.” 

First name basis with the woman who runs the company, well I guess she vice runs the company. That’s one of the lamer things I could have come up with, but if I were alone, I’m pretty sure I’d have myself in stitches.

“Okay, Abby.” I feel weird saying that, but if she’s okay with it, I can be too. 

We get to my floor quicker than I realize and I don’t know if I should walk out or stay here because I know she has something that she wants to say to me, otherwise I don’t think she would have spoken to me. 

She points out the doors as soon as they open. “Is this your floor?” When I nod she signals for me to go, following me out. I know for a fact that her office is a couple more floors up and I give her a quizzical look which she just smiles at. 

“I didn’t want to hold up the elevator. Even if what I want to say is brief.” 

I nod at her again and force myself to smile. Though she seems fine with me, I don’t want to let my guard down. Just in case. 

“I wanted to thank you, Lexa.” I’m sure the expression that I’m giving off is one of incredulity, especially with the way she chuckles at me. 

My brows scrunch together, “What for?” This time my smile is real. It’s always nice to be thanked. 

“For fitting Clarke in last week.” 

I almost choke on my tongue. God dammit, I know that what my mind automatically jumps to is not what Abby is saying at all, but my mind can’t help going there. Hoping that she doesn’t notice my reddening cheeks, I clear my throat. 

“Yeah, no problem,” I say, shrugging like everything’s cool before taking a sip from the wrong coffee cup. Tasting nothing but espresso, I make a face wondering how the hell Anya can drink this every morning. Five shots, no cream, no water, no sugar, no thank you.

Abby chuckles. “You okay there?” I nod so she continues, “I know you guys work hard and I know Clarke was a bit of a curveball, but I really appreciate you expediting everything.”

It’s not like we had much choice, but at least Ms. Griffin is grateful. Unlike her daughter. 

“I won’t take up any more of your time, Lexa,” she says as she pushes the button on the elevator. “Oh, one more thing?” The elevator dings, the doors opening and she walks in, a hand stopping it from going anywhere yet. 

“Yes, Abby?” It still feels so weird to say.

“Scale of one to ten, how’d she do?”

My body heats up as I remember asking Clarke a similar question. And if I was going to rate Clarke’s performance at my place, a solid nine, just like where she thinks her leadership skills rank. Though, her interview needed a lot of work. 

“Uh.” I take a deep breath to calm myself, trying to think of a good enough number to appease the older Griffin. I would give her a zero if I could. “Six?” and for some reason I draw that number out, unsure if it was okay. 

“Hm.” She scrunches up her nose, almost looking disappointed. “I’ll have to have a talk with her.” She nods to herself before waving at me. “Thanks again, Lexa.” The doors shut and I finally feel like I can breathe properly.

That was fun. 

#####

“Your drink tastes like shit,” I say, handing Anya her cup of what I can only describe as bitter crap and motioning for her to follow me into my office like we do every morning.

She regards the cup. “Ew, did you put your lips on this?” Twirling it around to see if she might find lip stains or something. Anya knows that I don’t wear lipstick, so I don’t know why she’s examining it so hard. 

I shrug. “Wasn’t really paying attention.” Anya keeps staring at it like if she drinks it she’s going to contract some sort of illness. “Oh my god,” I sigh out before grabbing it from her and removing the cap. “There, all good?”

“I dunno, I think maybe your finger touched the inside of the cup,” she says as she takes it back from me. 

I have the strongest urge to swirl my finger in her drink, but settle for rolling my eyes at her instead. “Well, this wouldn’t have happened if you’d bring _me_ my coffee in the morning.”

Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes as she takes a seat across from me. “Hey, you know I appreciate you.” 

“Sure you do.” The glare she shoots my way makes me giggle. “Anyway, how’s my day looking?”

“You’re surprisingly pretty clear today. Other than a few meetings–” she cuts herself off and that is a rare occurrence, garnering my attention. Her brow goes up as she looks through the iPad that contains the schedule for the day. “You’re gonna love this.”

Her words are dripping with sarcasm and I know it’s going to be the complete opposite. The last time she said that I would ‘love’ something, I ended up having to fire someone. 

My brow goes up now. “What is it?” 

She gives me a strange smile that I can’t interpret. “You have a twelve o’clock,”

There’s a reason she’s the one that deals with my schedules, this being one of them as I try to recall who I may have scheduled for that time, but I can’t think of anyone. I have to ask, “With whom?” 

Based on the smile on Anya’s face, I know that I’m not going to like the answer. “With Ms. Griffin.”

“Huh?” I ask, confused. “I just bumped into Abby, she didn’t mention anything about a meeting.” 

Anya looks puzzled for a moment. “Since when are you on a first name basis with her?” She shakes her head, seemingly thinking that question is unimportant and trying to refocus on the current situation. “But not that one, the other Griffin.”

God dammit, why would she need to talk to me? After signing her papers I didn’t think that there would be something to talk about so soon. She must be thinking about making good on her presage, but I’ll be ready for her.

“Does it say what for?”

“Mm,” Anya says, tapping through the iPad. “No, no notes.”

Rubbing my cheek with the palm of my hand, I glance pathetically over at Anya, trying to get her to feel sorry for me. “Ugh, I bet she’s just doing it to torture me.” 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She totally didn’t get my look at all. Or, since it’s Anya, she doesn’t want to give me the pity party that I so obviously want. But maybe she wouldn’t be so blasé about it if she knew what Clarke said to me behind closed doors. Hm, maybe she would. Why do I hang out with her?

“Sure it will.” 

#####

Why is it that time likes to mess with you? I’ve been dreading the meeting with a certain blonde and for some reason that makes time fly by. Like Fridays for example; the day you want to be over so that you can start your weekend and chill on Saturday feels like your shift is neverending. But Sunday feels like it’s over even before it started. Having Clarke’s meeting has made today feel like Sunday.

Glancing at my phone I realize there’s only a couple of minutes before she’s supposed to arrive and I continue to busy myself. Busy is a strong word, for the last half hour I’ve been pretty much just arranging the papers on my desk, first by color then by importance. Rearranging the order to be by importance then by color. Changing it back to how I originally had them because it’s got to be the better system if I thought about it first. 

It’s on my nth shuffle of my very important organization that I hear Clarke’s voice outside my door as she talks to Anya. Seconds later I can feel her in the room, but I keep my head down to make it look like what I’m doing is so critical to my work, that I’m so invested in it that I didn’t know that she is here. Or that I even forgot that the meeting was scheduled. 

She knocks softly on the doorframe to get my attention and I know I have to look up, but not before putting my pointer up, having her wait so I can continue my facade. A few more seconds of reading the same name over and over to keep playing the part before I turn my attention to her. 

Holy damn she looks good. I don’t know if she did something new to her hair or if she did something different with her makeup or what, but she looks… like dangerous territory. So, I will stop checking her out. 

“Oh, Clarke,” I check my phone trying to imply that I didn’t know that it was time for her meeting yet. “Is it noon already?”

She shoots me a smile with none of the intent that she had behind it the last time we saw each other. The last time it was a smirk, it had bite, it was sexy as hell. This time it’s… simply a greeting and I can’t help but to return it in kind. 

Pointing to the chair that she knows to take by now, “Have a seat.” 

“Should I,” she doesn’t finish the sentence, only points to the door with her thumb almost shyly. 

Test time. “Only if you think our meeting necessitates it.” She furrows her brows, her lips scrunched and the thought about how cute she is passes through my mind before I can stop it. And I remember that same look when we met at the bar when I asked her what her favorite, uh, favorite what? Man, some of that night is hard to remember. 

She shrugs, shakes her head and takes a seat. “I think it’ll be fine.” She smiles again and my stomach flutters. 

She’s acting differently than I thought she would. I was sure she’d take the opportunity to shut the door so that she could say more inappropriate things or something. Could this be a legitimate meeting? 

“Okay,” I place the papers that I had been shifting around to my left. “What can I help you with?” Let’s get down to it. 

She starts to finger the silver necklace she has on and I start to study it. It’s plain, no extra trinkets on it, just the chain. But the way she plays with it, it’s like it’s her own calming method. Though, the more I stare the faster her chest moves until her fingers stop moving. 

“I need to start building my team,” she says and my eyes snap up to meet hers. There’s something almost mischievous behind that sea of blue and I feel my cheeks reddening as I realize that I was staring. I really shouldn’t be staring. “I was told that you’re the one I was supposed to talk to about that.”

So, this is a legitimate meeting after all. I nod. “Well, technically. Did you get approval from Mr. Kane?”

She scoffs. “Kane? My mom owns this place, I don’t need approval from Kane!” Her eyes are fiery and I start to think that she’s exactly who I thought she was. “Well, she vice owns this place,” she finishes and there’s the slightest hint of a grin playing at her lips. 

I try my best not to look at her, but I feel something bubbling in my chest. That’s the same kind of stupid joke I made to myself this morning. I knew she got my humor, I knew she wanted to laugh at my shining cloud joke. She does think I’m funny and my dumb bar humor is enough for her. 

Biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing doesn’t fare too well, especially when she starts giggling. Unfortunately, it’s contagious and I find myself helplessly joining in. 

Giggles dying down, I smile at her while shaking my head. “That was a terrible joke.” It’s a lie. I freaking loved it. 

“I dunno, I feel like it’s on par with your ‘You should sit down for this part’ joke.” And the way she quotes back my own words is like she’s doing an impersonation of Barney the dinosaur more than anything else. 

My brows knit together as I lean back and fold my arms over my chest. “I’m sorry.” I look up at the ceiling in thought before turning my attention back to her. “Was that your honest impression of what you think I sound like?” 

Her smile somehow gets wider. “Yeah, I think I nailed it!” 

“I’m offended.” I giggle. “Let me try to nail you– nope.” I can’t believe I said that. I chance a look at her, heat traveling to my face, but all I get in return from her is an eyebrow raise and a half smile. “Uh,” I say that word for longer than necessary, pretty elongated. Wanting to bury my head in the sand, I instead opt to close my eyes and loosely cover my face with a hand. 

She lets out a soft chuckle. “You make a cute tomato.”

“Oh, shut up, Clarke,” earns me another chuckle and I feel my face getting redder.

She chooses to spare my embarrassment and clears her throat. “Back to the meeting then.” And there’s that soft smile again. And there goes my stomach again. 

_Shit_.

I don’t understand where or when this shift happened in Clarke. Not to say that I don’t like it, quite the opposite. But last-week-Clarke would have pounced on that nailing her response without mercy. If she keeps this up, I might start liking to see her more. 

I clear my throat while trying to calm myself down, a deep breath or two before returning to our conversation. “Right, approval?”

She nods. “Yes, Mr. Kane should have sent an email this morning.” 

I checked my email a few times and don’t recall getting an email from him, though that could be because I was worrying about this meeting. Putting my pointer up when I realize she’s about to talk, I start to thoroughly go through my mail and I hear her clear her throat. 

She sighs. “I really dislike that finger of yours.” And I want to so badly say something about how she liked it a lot at one point, but I keep that thought to myself. I’m going to have to think up a mantra to say over and over in my head for whenever Clarke is around. 

Something sophisticated like… like, ‘Nope.’ 

Really flexed a brain muscle figuring that one out.

Instead of saying anything I put my pointer as close to her as I can, waving it as it nears her. I hear her sigh again. “Lexa, if you put that any closer, I’m going to bite it.” 

Giggling, but still keeping my attention on my computer, I lean as far as I can to goad her. The bad thing is that I know what I’m doing, or at least I know what it looks like, but I’m not flirting or anything. Just trying to get under her skin. Besides, she wouldn’t actually do that here, right?

The sharp sting surprises me, a yelp escapes me and I quickly retract my finger. My eyebrows shoot up as I shake my head in disbelief at Clarke only to see her biting her bottom lip, like that’s hiding the fact that she’s so obviously tittering away. 

Anya appears at the door, concern written on her face. “Lexa, you okay?”

“Hm, yeah, why?” I say, shrugging. Her eyes narrow in on me and I know she can sense I’m not telling her everything, but I shrug again before her eyes land on a still chuckling Clarke. Anya tilts her head to the side and raises her eyebrow. Damn, I forget sometimes how intimidating that woman can be. 

Clarke clears her throat and straightens up in her chair. “Uh, Lexa was just trying to find an email.” I nod as Anya looks between the two of us. 

“Okay, well, will you two chatty Cathys keep it down then? Some of us are trying to work,” Anya says before leaving in a huff.

As soon as she’s out of the room Clarke and I look at each other and start giggling. It’s like I’m drunk at the bar with her again, I’ve never laughed as much with anyone as I have with her. I thought that maybe it was the alcohol, but today is proving me wrong. When she’s not being a nightmare to me, she’s kind of cool. 

“I can’t believe you bit me.” 

Her smile returns. “I warned you.” But her eyes are mischievous. “I don’t just say things.” She starts to play with her necklace again and the movement of her fingers draw my eyes towards it once more. Though, this time she’s not just touching her jewelry, her pinky slides down her chest and my eyes follow it. 

There are times when you tell yourself to stop something and your brain is on board with you, but not your heart. There are also times when you tell yourself to stop something and your heart is on board with you, but not your brain. Then, there are times when neither of those fuckers will listen and you’re just a lump whose eyes won’t leave cleavage and whose mouth or throat or whatever controls all that just swallows. 

I hear something, but the words are a little muffled so I have to ask, “Hm?” 

“I asked if you found the email?” 

Crap, I forgot that that was what I was supposed to be doing. “Um, no.” 

“I’m sure he sent it, may I?” she asks and I shrug. I’m sure it’s there, I just haven’t really been paying attention. 

Instead of letting me turn the screen to her, she walks around the desk to stand beside me and removes my hand from the mouse, taking over. She does the smart thing that I never even thought of doing because I was too busy checking Clarke out to think of it and uses the email’s search option to bring up Marcus’ name. 

She clicks on it. “There. That was easy,” she smirks at me. 

She smells good. Like, really good. 

“Yeah, well, that’s ‘cause I loosened it up for you,” I mumble. And I know that that joke is stupid, mostly because it doesn’t make sense, but it was the first thing to pop into my head so I went with it. I think I’m using the term ‘joke’ loosely at this point. 

She laughs. “It’s not a jar of pickles, ya weirdo.” She shakes her head playfully at me before sitting back down in the chair. 

It shouldn’t surprise me at this point that she gets me and my lame sense of humor because she’s already shown interest in it before, but this feels different. I don’t know if I can explain it because I can’t quite put my finger on why. 

Skimming over the email from Mr. Kane, I get the verification I was looking for. “Okay, got it and read it all by myself, with no help from anyone.” I look over at her to see her roll her eyes. It’s cute. Nope. “What positions are you looking to fill?” And a second later my eyes widen. This is a question that could have a very dirty response. Last-week-Clarke could tell you that. 

“I know that I need to start small, so I’m only looking for the two that I think are most important, taking what I can bring to the table into account,” she states and I nod, surprised that she didn’t even bat an eye. She just answered the question. “So, I’d like to have a content writer who’s also savvy with social media and an SEO Specialist who deals with PPC’s.”

I nod. “Yes, I too know letters.” 

It’s the funniest expression that appears on Clarke’s face, like she doesn’t know whether I’m joking with her or not. I can see her biting the inside of her cheeks to try and stifle her imminent laughter and a moment later she can’t help it. I like doing that to her. 

Keeping my eyes on her and a straight face, her giggles die pretty quickly and her brows knit together. “Wait,” her face turns apologetic, “I’m sorry, I thought–” 

I wave her off. “I’m kidding, Clarke,” I say, smiling as she rolls her eyes at me again. “We post job listings, we know what search engine optimization means.” I don’t use the acronym just so she knows for sure that I’m not trying to pull her leg again.

She rolls her eyes. “You are so hilarious, did you know that?” and I don’t think that there could be any more sarcasm dripping in those words. But she smiles with that soft smile of hers that does strange things to me, that reminds me again why I took her to bed in the first place. Nope. I really need to find a way to stop thinking about her like that.

It turns out it’s easier to pretend nothing happened between us when she’s being forward and borderline inappropriate. But when she’s being this nice, professional version of herself I find myself drawn to her in the worst way possible considering our working relationship.

“Okay,” I say, trying to compose myself. “Now we just need to figure out the set of skills you’re looking for so I can put something together.”

I will deny anyone who says my next move is out of anything but professionalism. Opening the drawer to my right, I pull out a notebook and grab a pen from my desk before standing up and going around until I’m sitting on the chair next to her. She gives me a quizzical look and I just shrug, unable to explain why I decided sitting next to her is more effective than staying where I was.

“Just list the things you’re looking for in both positions and I’ll write them down as you go,” I say, turning slightly toward her, our knees almost touching, while still leaning my arm on the desk to take notes.

She’s silent for a moment and I glance up at her, her gaze focused on my left hand that’s atop my thigh. It’s nothing, it’s subtle, but it’s intense when a finger from the hand on her leg pokes out toward my own hand before retreating quickly. Like she caught herself just before she could touch me. 

Her head turns, her eyes fixed on the back wall of the office and she takes a deep breath. “Sorry, what were we… Right, positions.” She mirrors me, placing her left arm on the desk and she starts tapping her fingers. 

She pulls out her phone and the thought of her being unprofessional pops into my mind once again. I guess my thought registers on my face because she raises an eyebrow at me. “Just have my notes here, Lexa.”

“I didn’t say anything.” I feign innocence. 

She clicks her tongue. “Uh-huh.”

After going over her list of wants and requirements for prospective applicants I look down at the notes that I took. Finding the page to be full, I look at her. “Wow, you sure this is enough? You don’t want to fill another page?”

I’m going to be honest, it wasn’t the best of quips, but with the way she laughs at it, it would make anyone think that Clarke thought it was. The way her eyes lit up, the way it came out of her mouth, not just her nose, the way she covers my hand on the desk with her own, I feel like I could beat out any stand up comedian. 

And her hand feels so nice, it sends a tingling sensation all throughout my body. And the smile on her face is almost shy. And she’s looking at me just like she did when I took her home. She’s flirting with me.

She’s fucking with me. 

This whole meeting starts running through my mind from the very beginning until now. Everything about the way she’s been acting directly parallels the way she behaved with me at the bar, though today a little less sloppy. The way she’s been smiling at me, the way she’s been reacting to my dumb jokes, even just now with the way she touched my hand.

Yup, she’s definitely fucking with me. She’s trying to make good on what she said last week. I can’t believe her. 

I squint at her, “You butthead.” Her only response is a lifted brow. I slip my hand out from under hers. “You’re sneaky.” 

Clarke starts touching her necklace again and my eyes go straight to it. I don’t know why my gaze follows it, why it’s drawn to it every time she plays with it. But then another revelation hits me and I should have known by now that her necklace is only the first thing I look at and that she’s been purposefully drawing my attention there. And keeping it there with breasts. 

_Shit._

I look up into darker eyes than when I last saw them and she shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lexa.”

But I know she does. I can see it in the way she’s looking at me. I must admit, when she first walked through the door for her interview my heart stopped and I worried for a while that she would say something to jeopardize my career, but after talking to Abby earlier today and realizing she has no idea of what happened between her daughter and I, I think maybe that’s not what Clarke’s after. So it gives me enough confidence to do what I do next.

Grabbing her chair, I pull her closer, our knees now touching. I lean in so I can whisper, my left arm on her arm rest. “Yes you do, you’re playing with me, but you don’t want to,” I say as confidently as I can and I sense the slight shiver she experiences. If she wants to play this game with me, I’ve got to at least be in the same field. I know the effect that I have on her, she just showed it. 

Clarke smirks. “Oh?” She starts tracing random patterns on my hand that’s on the desk. 

Moving my lips to her ear and feeling her tremble once again, I nod. “You’ve been without an opponent.” I know what I’m doing is high risk, but I don’t care when I see how red the tips of her ears get. “Let’s see how good you think you are when I play back.” And I don’t know where this side of me comes from, but I feel the need to bite her earlobe, so I do. 

The patterns on my hand stop as she pulls back so that she can look me in the eye, challenge ever present in her own, smirk in tow. “Game on, Woods.” And I don’t know what the hell’s been started.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say hi and I hope ya'll had a good week! :)

Glancing at my phone, I curse myself for working so late. It’s easy to get caught up sometimes, but I’ve been trying to be better about that. With practically everyone gone it feels a little eerie, though I’ve gotten used to it, especially over the past month and a half. 

As the elevator descends, I start thinking about what my plans are for the weekend. It’s not much and it hasn’t been much for a bit, but I can’t keep staying home; I really need to get a hobby of some sort. 

The doors open and I hear a familiar voice echoing off the walls of the lobby. My heart beats a little bit faster and I wonder if telling it to calm down would make me look crazy. Stepping out, I see the owner of said voice conversing with one of the security personnel. I’m slightly taken aback and I can’t help but wonder why she’s still here. 

Nearing her proximity I hear her laugh in a way I’ve not heard from her before. She turns and her eyes light up with what I can only describe as hope when they land on me. “Oh, Lexa!” My eyes narrow, she’s too animated to see me. “There she is!” She points at me before motioning for me to walk over to her with the same pointer.

My eyebrows knit together as I do what her finger says because why wouldn’t I, but I do it cautiously. I don’t know what this is. 

“Hey, Clarke,” I say with an awkward wave. 

Before I can ask what’s going on or any questions really, she hooks her arm with mine. “My friend is here, so I’m gonna go, bye!” She waves him off and drags me with her to the back doors where the parking garage is. “Thank god you’re here,” she whispers as we get further away. 

“Well, that’s a first, I think.” I pull the door open and motion for her to go through.

She giggles. “Such a gentleman.” Then a smile that nearly throws me off balance.

Walking next to her, I roll my eyes before flashing her a stupid smile. “Wow, are we best friends now? Since you’re waiting for me in the lobby.”

She bumps me with her shoulder. “Shh, let’s just enjoy the silence.” 

Seeing that most of the parking stalls are empty, I feel no need to reign my voice in, so I don’t. “But I thought you loved it when I scream!” I cry out as loud as I can, my voice reverberating off the cement walls. She stops walking. Then I stop walking. I look over at her when the realization of what I said finally hits me and I don’t know what I’m expecting.

She lowers her eyes before looking back up at me and it’s one of the sexiest things I’ve seen. “I do.” Her voice is low, sultry and I feel it in the pit of my stomach. 

What she says has no effect on me. “Uh.” Okay, let me rephrase that. It has an effect on me, but I won’t let her know that. This is a game after all and I don’t want her to have the first point, or goal, or however we’re keeping score. So, I clear my throat and force my legs to move. 

“Good to know,” I say and I surprise not only her but myself with how composed that came out. “Where’s your car?” I am nailing it with how composed I am. Only thing to give anything away is how quick my heart is beating, but she’s not close enough to know that, so. 

“It’s on this level.” She smiles at me. “Out of the four that are here, I want to see if you can guess which one it is.”

This is yet another thing about her that surprises me. Not that she wants me to guess about her car, which I’m sure is the light blue mini cooper a few yards from us, but that her car is on this floor of the garage. This place has four floors that fill up fast and unless you get in here before eight, or you’re important enough to have a reserved parking spot, you’re stuck parking on the top so your car gets rained on all day. Yay Seattle.

Does she actually care about this place?

Pointing at the one I think it is gets me an eyeroll. “Well, that was a lot less fun than I thought it’d be.” 

“Hey, that’s what I thought after taking you back to my place.” I give her the fakest smile that I can, reveling in the glare she shoots me. I don’t know if she thinks that it’s threatening, but I think it’s cute and I boop her nose only to have her smack my finger away. This is fun, I can see now why she was so antagonistic toward me. 

My joy doesn’t last long. “You get what you put into it, champ,” she replies as she playfully chucks me under my chin, winking and then walking toward her car. Can you call it walking, though, if you’re swaying your hips like that?

I can’t let her have the last word or action and I find myself jogging to catch up to her. We approach her car, but she doesn’t unlock it right away and that causes a smile to form on my lips. She still wants to spend time with me. She leans her left shoulder against the driver’s door and crosses her arms, lifting a brow at me. 

“What?”

She waves her right hand. “I know you were trying to think of something witty, so out with it so I can destroy you again.” She smiles. 

Leaning against her car too, mirroring her and seeing the smile she has for me not just on her lips, but in her eyes, I totally space on the comeback that I had at the ready a second ago. Shit. “Um.” 

“Ouch, sick burn, Lex.” She giggles and I can feel the blush coming. God dammit.

Smiling through my rapidly reddening cheeks, “Fuck you, Clarke.” 

“Hm, I did have plans tonight,” she starts as she looks me over, her gaze sliding down slowly only to return to meet mine, her eyes a darkened shade of blue as she sucks in her bottom lip. I gulp. “But, I can push them if that’s what you want.” 

What is that term they use in tennis where your opponent serves the ball and you don’t even touch it, you’re like, on the other side of the court or something? What kind of lesbian am I that I don’t remember that? Well, whatever that term is, that’s what I feel is happening. My entire body wants to say yes, but my mind is trying to tell me no because I don’t like losing and it’s only been two days since I challenged her; and I haven’t done anything. 

My breaths shorten and I look up like god is going to come save me and make me not want to have sex with Clarke.

“Lexa?” It’s almost a whisper, but with how vacant this place is, it’s easy to hear. “My place?” she asks as she lightly tugs at my blouse, bringing me an inch or so closer.

It’s the funniest thing, the words that your mind clues into even when you think it’s not paying attention. And it’s those words that bring you back from doing something stupid. Her place, her bed, I’m not going to fall into it, but I can sure as hell try to make her think that I will.

Clarke has known me as a tipsy woman who doesn’t really know how to act around pretty girls, but surprisingly was able to land her. She’s known me in a professional sense where I can’t really do or say the things that come to my mind. But she doesn’t know, and why would she, about the long distance relationship I once had. One of the essentials in something like that is communication, the other is your dirty talk skills have to be perfection.

Stepping closer to her, so close I can feel the heat emanating off of her, I lean in. My lips close to her ear just like when we were in my office. “What would we do at your place, Clarke?” My hands move down to her hips. “Hm?” My breath on her neck cause her to shiver and damn if I couldn’t do this all day. 

“Would you have me on all fours again?” I squeeze her hips and I hear a moan escape her lips. “Begging for you to take me.” Her right hand flies to my elbow, grasping on to it. “Or, you know what?” I bite her earlobe, earning me a squeak. “I never got to taste you.” Poking my tongue out, but only slightly against the same part of her I just bit. “Would you let me taste you this time?”

Feeling the way she shivers against me, feeling her grip getting tighter, the slight nod and hearing the sounds that slip out of her I know that that’s enough. I step back effectively cutting off all closeness and touch, immediately missing the way her hips feel under my hand and how good she smells, but I shake that off. 

If I could live off of being proud of myself then the look on her face could sustain me for centuries. The flushed features and darkened eyes that swiftly turn into confusion, it’s perfect. 

“But maybe another night. I just realized, I can’t make it.” I have a lot of doing nothing but thinking about this moment to do. 

“You…” she starts, but then she’s silent for a few seconds. 

I smirk at her as I start backing away, step by step. “I…?”

She shakes her head and gives me a devilish smile. “You’re in trouble, Lexa.” For a moment panic strikes me as I think about what she means by that. But she speaks quickly, “I will get you back for this.” 

Speaking at a higher volume due to the distance I put between us, my smile gets bigger. “Isn’t that how games work?” 

The shaking of her head is the last thing I see before turning around to walk to my own car. 

#####

Leaving Clarke that night was both the easiest and hardest things I’ve had to do in a long time. Easy because I like winning and seeing the look on her face, I know that I won the night. Hard because I’ve never wanted anyone more than I wanted her then. Than I still want her. The whole weekend it was pretty much all I thought about. 

Oh, and ace! That was the tennis term I was looking for. Lesbian cred reapplied! 

Shaking my head to get those thoughts to fly out, I slip one of the cups of coffee that I have between my arm and chest so that I can have one hand free to open the door from the garage to the building. Before I do open it, though, a hand reaches out and does it for me. 

She motions for me to go through and I smile at her. “Such a gentleman.”

Clarke smiles that smile that makes my knees weak now and just shakes her head. “How was your weekend?”

I shrug, “Uneventful,” I say, holding the coffees in each hand again. I wait for her to catch up so that we can take the elevator together. “Yours?” 

“Hm.” She tucks her hair behind her ears and it’s cute. “It was fine,” she murmurs as she walks beside me, both of us stopping before she presses the button to call the lift. “I thought you said you were going to be busy?” 

“No, I didn’t.” I smirk at her. And I love that the way I left her the other night obviously made her think about me. 

She glances over at me sideways. “Hm,” she repeats that sound.

The doors open and she goes inside first, pushing the number for her floor and mine. I step into the empty elevator and as soon as the doors close, she’s on me, walking me to the back of it. Her hands immediately clasp onto my waist as she pushes herself into me and buries her face in my neck.

The feeling of her breath on me, of her inhaling me, takes me back to that Uber ride back to my place. The jelly like legs that weren’t a problem then because I was at least seated. The heightened breaths and quickened heartbeat. The moan that involuntarily escaped. The want and hunger I had for her. 

And I can’t do much, coffee in my hands stopping me from really being able to do anything. Even if I wasn’t holding them, I’m not sure my hands would be pushing her away, anyway. 

“I want you to think about me,” she whispers, her breath tickling me and making my whole body electric. “And what I would have let you do to me.” She places a soft kiss on my neck and another jolt flows through me. “All day while you’re uncomfortable in your office,” she finishes and bites me where her lips just were before raking her nails on my waist over my blouse. 

This time, it’s Clarke who pulls away, moving to the other side of the elevator as it signals that the door is going to open. It takes me a couple seconds to get my bearings back and another to realize that I’ve arrived at my floor. 

Walking out of the elevator, I can almost feel her smug smile burning into my back. “Have a good day, Lexa,” she calls out to me.

“Whatever, Clarke,” I state, not even looking back to her. 

Point, goal, whatever for Griffin. 

#####

I’m disappointed. I was too busy congratulating myself on a job well done that I got caught off guard in the elevator. That’s the dangerous part about Clarke, I’ve realized. She presents herself one way at times; forward and bold. That’s simple, having to butt heads with people, I can deal with that. It’s the times when she steps back, where she’s quiet and all smiles that my guard drops. Even though I should know by now that that is when I should be guarded the most. 

I take another sip from my coffee and flinch. Ugh, it’s lukewarm. 

“They started chucking rainbow feces at each other–”

My brow furrows as I tune into whatever the hell Anya is talking about. “Huh?”

“Yeah, the feces was rainbow colored, can you believe it?”

What the hell has she been talking about? “What the hell, Anya?”

She looks at me with that hiked up eyebrow before looking at her phone and tapping it. “Okay, so that was about five minutes that you weren’t listening to me.” 

“What? C’mon, An–” She holds it up to show the stopwatch that she had been using to time me, apparently. 

Great, now our little encounter is throwing me off at work. I’d say that her little stunt in the elevator is even worse than what I did to her. At least when I left her all flustered and hot she got the weekend to think about it and get over it, if she even needed that much time. 

Me, on the other hand, I’m stuck here behind my desk, slightly uncomfortable and completely unfocused. At least today isn’t one of those days where I have to have meetings with some of the executives to see what areas we can work on. Even though they don’t really understand half of what we do for the company, they just assume that most of what we do is hiring and firing. 

Oh geez, thank god we don’t have a meeting with them! I don’t know how I’d react if I had to sit across from Abby today. Knowing that her daughter is the reason I’d be squirming around in my chair. Damn, that’d be awkward. 

“Unicorn feces!” 

Sighing. “What is your obsession with feces?”

“It seemed to be the thing that got you to snap out of wherever you were before,” she says with a shrug.

Checking my phone, I realize I’ve only been here for an hour. Today is going to suck. 

It’s Anya’s turn to sigh. “Lexa, what’s up with you today?” 

Well, I’m extremely turned on because Clarke touched me and now I can’t think about anything unless it has something to do with her. “If I had to put my finger on it, I’d say I’m probably just tired.” 

“You’re going to have to perk up, boss. You’ve got a busy day today,” she says matter-of-factly. 

I’ve got a lot of perk, just in the wrong part of my body. “I know.” I sigh as I run my fingers through my hair. “Today could not go fast enough.” 

#####

“Lexa Woods,” I state into the phone. 

“Hi, Lexa.”

My professional demeanor quickly drops and I let out a long and overdramatized sigh. “What do you want?”

She chuckles into the phone and it shouldn’t, it really shouldn’t send a shiver of excitement up my spine. It shouldn’t make my stomach turn in a delicious way. It shouldn’t make me think such inappropriate things, but it does. It’s just a chuckle. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“Ugh,” is my reply and she laughs a little harder this time. “I’m gonna hang up on you.” You’d think she’d be offended, but I think I’m smiling so much that she can hear it when I talk. 

I can hear her smile, too. “No, wait. I did call for a reason, Lex.” 

It’s come to my attention that she’s shortened my name at least twice now. “Go ahead, Cla.” 

“Oh my god.” I don’t know what kind of tone she’s going for, but I can imagine it’s one that includes a gesture where she’s facepalming for me and she lets out a breathy giggle. “I’m seriously trying to bed a dork. God, my standards.” 

“Are at an all time high? I know.” So what if the smile on my face is humongous. 

“Right.” She drags that word out longer than I think she should. “Anyway, I was wondering if you had some time to meet with me today?” 

“Did you schedule a meeting?” I ask, trying to remember if Anya went over this with me or not. 

“I didn’t want to block out a whole hour of your time, it’s pretty straightforward.”

Tapping my fingers on my desk, I think about just telling her yes without even checking my schedule because it’s been days since I’ve seen Clarke and I want to get back at her. But Anya is so on top of things that if I just made decisions like this myself and mess up her organization, she might kill me. 

My silence makes her speak up, “if you can’t–“

“No, I–” I clear my throat and make up my mind. “I have some time to spare now, if you can make it.” This might be worth my death. 

About five minutes later I hear her voice outside as she converses with Anya, but unlike the last time she doesn’t walk straight in. Their voices intermingle, though I can’t make out what they’re saying. 

A minute later Clarke appears in my doorway and I don’t know how she manages to one up herself every time I see her. How is it possible? 

“I didn’t know you were so busy,” Clarke says as I motion for her to sit. She doesn’t. “I’ll make this quick.” She instead opts to shut the door. 

My left eyebrow raises at that. “Clarke?” I drawl. 

She smirks at me as she nears me, coming over to my side of the desk, leaning back on it right next to me. She’s so close and I know I should roll my chair back so I’m not as tempted, but I can’t bring myself to. 

Why does she always smell so fucking good?

“Thanks for being so quick and on top of the job postings, Lex.” She places the folder that she has in her hand down and points towards it as she talks. “I’ve narrowed down the applicants to three per position.”

Grabbing the folder I immediately go over it. “Yeah, no problem,. I murmur as I look it over. 

In the past week since we posted the jobs there’s been a lot of interest and I’ve had it set up so that whenever one comes in, it gets sent straight to Clarke. I’m just impressed that she’s gone through it so quickly. A lot of the other head of whatever departments they’re head of sometimes take months.

“You could have handed this over to me from the other side of the desk.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” And she says it in such a way that makes my body really pay attention. 

“Having joy in your work is its own fun.” I’m trying to joke so that I stop thinking about how close she is to me. And so I can stop thinking about touching her. I mean, she is dressed professionally enough, but the skirt she’s wearing doesn’t go down to her ankles, and why should it? The skin she’s showing is modest enough, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to nibble those places upward until I get to the warmer part of her. 

She rolls her eyes. “You say these things and it’s starting to make me question how I’m at all attracted to you.” 

“A-ha!” I smile like I just won a gold medal in something. “So, you are attracted to me?” 

She crosses her arms, but brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose, eyes closing. “Yeah, but why?” She sighs. 

I think about touching her and how much it would affect me, but how would it affect her? Would it be just like in the garage, where I can control myself and get her flustered and make her feel like she made me feel the other day after the elevator? It would be the best revenge to make her have to squirm in her chair for the rest of the day. 

Or will it backfire on me? I have a feeling this is exactly the kind of mind games she was expecting to play on me when she decided to shut the door to my office. Or maybe even before she got down here. 

Fuck it. 

“I know why,” I husk as my right hand lands on the side of her knee, my fingers tickling the backside of it. 

Her eyes fly open, quickly finding my hand, watching it as it moves under her skirt. “Enlighten me,” she breathes as I touch her outer thigh. I start to glide my fingers up and down and I can feel the goosebumps that form. 

Moving my chair so that she’s directly in front of me, practically between my legs, I make use of my other hand. Both moving up and down at the same time, at the same pace, feeling different legs that have the same soft skin and I remember the last time I felt her bare thighs. The memory makes me shiver and I tighten my grip, my fingers digging in. 

This may have been a mistake. Focus. 

Looking up at her and seeing her facial expression is so fucking dangerous. Her lips slightly parted, her eyes changing color like a mood ring explaining her desire, her cheeks a light pink, fuck I want her. 

“Because I turn you on.”

Simple answer. 

She sucks her bottom lip in and I watch as it slowly slides out. Gliding my hands up and down her thighs, I smirk as she grips the desk behind her to steady herself. She’s like putty in my hands right now. This is where I should stop, this is where I should leave her, this is the state I want her in for the rest of the day, but my hands don’t want to leave. And right now, they’re making their point known and instead of leaving her, they move higher, about to slide into her underwear. 

There’s a knock on the door and now my hands decide to listen as they fly off of her like she’s a hot stove my mom warned me not to touch. I push away from her and for her part, she dashes to the other side of the desk. 

I grab the folder off the desk as Anya pushes the door open. “Yes, so, this is great. Uh huh, looks real good.” The papers are upside down, but it doesn’t really matter, I’m not reading anything. Just trying to pretend like nothing was happening. “I’ll have Indra do phone interviews as soon as possible.” 

Clarke nods. “Great!” Her brows furrow, maybe she thinks that may have been too perky and she clears her throat. “I mean, yeah, great, that’s, yeah.” 

Anya looks between the two of us, her brows furrowed, looking like she’s a police officer that wants to interrogate us. Would she just play bad cop/bad cop?

“Lexa, your eleven o’clock is here.” 

I glance at my phone, checking the time. I hadn’t thought that Clarke was here that long and she wasn’t, maybe ten or so minutes, but Anya’s looking at her like she’s been here way too long; Clarke understands the look, but doesn’t react the way I assumed she would. 

“You said I had fifteen minutes, Anya.” She shrugs. 

“I said be out in ten, the next meeting was in fifteen,” Anya retorts, crossing her arms and lifting her brow. Honestly, I’m just glad Anya’s taking this impromptu meeting out on Clarke and not me. 

Clarke looks like she wants to protest, but stops herself. “Okay, I’m leaving.” She smiles sweetly at Anya whose response it is to roll her eyes. Then her gaze lands on me, smirk in tow. “Thanks again, Lex,” she says, waving as she makes her exit.

I return her wave before turning my attention to the other woman in my office. “Thanks, Anya. Will you let whoever’s here in?” 

“Yup.” 

#####

It’s becoming increasingly harder to convince myself not to find reasons to seek Clarke out. Every time I leave work at a late hour I hope to see her like I did that one night or whenever I stroll in in the morning, I hope to see her opening the door for me. It just hasn’t happened lately and now another week has passed since I’ve actually seen her for a significant amount of time and not just a glance from across the room. 

But now I have a legitimate reason to see her.

When I get to her office, folder in hand, I find the door open and knock on the frame before realizing that there’s someone already in the office with her. I wouldn’t have knocked if I had known and now I’m just stupidly standing outside her office as she puts her finger in the air at me. Seeing that small upward turn of one corner of her mouth, I shake my head. Jerk. 

I lean against the frame, crossing my arms, getting ready to wait patiently when the man stands to leave. “I’ll let you get to it then, Clarke,” he says as he starts to walk out. When his back is turned to her, Clarke rolls her eyes and I’m unsure if she wanted me to see that or not. 

“Mr. Kane.” I nod at him as he passes. 

He nods back as he rolls his eyes, gesturing that it’s about Clarke and not me. “Ms. Woods,” he acknowledges me with a small smile. 

“So, I see things are going well with him,” I say once I know that he’s out of earshot. 

She nods. “Why wouldn’t they be?” It’s more a statement than a question and I shrug in response. 

“Do you have a minute?” 

She tucks her hair behind her ear and nods. “For you, Lexa, I have two,” she says with that smile that makes me forget anything and everything but her. Including moving, I guess. “You can come in, Lexa. I won’t bite.” She stops for a moment and looks up in thought before looking back at me, smirking. “Unless you ask me to.” 

That comment prompts movement in me, mostly because I’m afraid she’s going to say more things like that and someone might hear. I shut her door and walk towards her desk, but stay standing instead of taking a seat. 

Looking around, I notice that her office is so much better than the one I’m stuck in all day. It’s at least half a size bigger than mine which is enough space to have a couch in here and have it not be obstructive. She also has a window, which already makes it a million times better. Add to it her awesome desk that you can probably sleep under without anyone noticing and her expensive ass computer. Ugh. 

“This is bullshit,” I say, though I hope the smile I have lets her know that I don’t mean it in anything more than a joking manner. “Wanna switch offices?”

She giggles. “That piece of crap? No thanks,” she says as she sticks her nose in the air at me. I really want to bite that nose. 

Shaking my head, I roll my eyes at her. “Upper floor people.” I sniff. “Just a buncha dicks.” 

She giggles again and I seriously need to stop being so influenced by the sounds that she makes. “Aren’t you going to sit down?” she asks as she points to the chair I’m holding the back of. 

“Actually,” I start as I glance to my right. “I kinda wanna jump on the couch.”

She nods. “That was the first thing I did,” she says and I think, not for the first time but maybe the first sober time, that she may be my dream girl. “It’s not as fun as it looks.” Her nose scrunches up almost like she ate a lemon or something. She continues when she catches the arch on my brow. “No bounce, you just kinda… sink.” 

“Hm, makes sense, I guess.” Though my eyes continue to dart over to it. 

She shakes her head. “You gonna tell me what you’re doing here?”

Oh right, I forgot about that. 

“Did you miss me?” she asks as she bats her pretty lashes at me. 

Maybe. “Oh, please.” I roll my eyes to really drive my words home. 

“Out with it then, woman. I’ve got things to see and people to do.” 

I giggle. “I think you got that switched around.” 

Shrugging, she looks me over and I don’t know if I’ll ever get over how much her gaze affects me. “Depends on the people,” she delivers with half a smile. 

Clearing my throat to hopefully clear my salacious thoughts for the time being, I place the folder I’m holding on her desk. “The applicants you selected, most did well, only one didn’t. So, to move forward, you’re going to have to tell me which times you’re available for.”

Clarke moves to open the folder. “Available for?” She asks mindlessly, paying more attention to the papers I handed her than me. 

“Phone interviews.” 

The way her eyebrow lifts, the smirk on her lips, clues me in that she’s either going to say something wildly inappropriate or tease me. My money is on teasing. “You came all the way here to ask me that?” 

Swallowing, I nod. “Yup.” 

“Hm.” She nods, the teasing look on her face gone, replaced with one that I can’t place. “There’s something that I’d like to show you, Lexa, if you wouldn’t mind coming over here by me.”

My brow arches. I chastised myself before about the consequences that occur when I let my guard down around her. It’s especially in times like this where she’s cool and being nice that I really shouldn’t listen to her or do anything she tells me to, but my body is an idiot along with my brain because I find myself doing as she says. 

She rolls her chair close to her desk as I stand behind her. She starts moving the cursor on her screen with her wireless mouse. Ugh, she gets all the cool stuff. My mouse is still very much wired and very much old. 

Pulling up her email, she starts to compose a draft and I see her typing in my email address on her monitor that’s like double the size of mine. “Are you looking, hot stuff?” she asks as she continues this stupid joke.

Knowing where she’s going with this, I try to stop her before she can continue. “Okay, okay,” I say as I push her hands off the keyboard. “Stop.” 

She giggles and bats my hands away. “But, Lexa? I wasn’t sure if you knew what an email was?” She giggles some more as I continue my assault and by this point she’s typing gibberish on the screen. “I mean first trying to find Kane’s email, now this? I’m just trying to be helpful.” 

“Oh, whatever,” I huff, grasping the back of her chair and rolling her backward. It catches her by surprise and she’s not able to grab onto anything to stop herself. She spins a little as the wheels glide across the floor and I laugh at the slight panic that spreads across her face when she thinks it’s going to tip over. 

It takes her longer than I thought it would to realize she could just put her foot down to brake. When she does she stands up and puts her hands on her hips, head down and off to the side looking at the ground as she chews the inside of her cheek. 

You know that feeling that you get when you’re playing around with one of your friends, or someone you’re really attracted to, and it’s all fun and games until the other person embarrasses themselves or you take a joke a little too far and then they look at you like they might just murder you? They’re glaring at you and then you kind of panic, but in a delicious and exciting way where you want them to come at you or chase you or in any way touch you so you don’t know whether you want to run or stay just to see what they do?

Yeah, that’s what’s happening now. 

The panic happens when her eyes meet mine and it affects my heart, making it beat faster and faster. It affects my stomach, making it tumble like a washing machine. It affects my legs, leaving them to tremble just enough to not be able to move. 

“You are so dead,” is the only warning before she approaches me quickly and starts trying to tickle me. 

I smile at her. “Lame, I’m not the ticklish type.” 

“Fine!” She pinches my sides and that gets a yelp out of me.

“Stop being a child!” I try to scold her, but it’s said between some giggles while I try to keep her hands away from me, so it’s pretty much worthless words. Also, she doubles her efforts, so I’m pretty sure my words have the exact opposite effect. I can’t be too positive, though.

“You’re the one being a child,” she says and gets a pinch on my neck. 

“Okay, Clarke,” I say, the tone of my voice is one I would use on a five year old as I grab her wrists tightly and put them at her sides. “You’re being mean, do you need to take a nap?” 

Daggers, that’s the response I get when I gleefully look into her eyes. I can feel them, but instead of stinging me they just make me happy. 

My glee lasts about a second, though, when I feel her arms stiffen and she pivots on her left foot as she takes a step back. The movement catches me by surprise and I end up moving with her. Her backside against her desk and me right up against her. The contents on the desk shake a little with the impact.

The atmosphere changes from playfulness to intense electricity and it takes less than a second for my body to react to how close we are. Heating up, heartbeat accelerating, breathing unsteady, mind dumbing down so that all I can think about is touching her.

I drop her wrists and replace them with her hips. It’s probably not the smartest of ideas, but I did say I’m not at full mental capacity.

“What are we doing?” I whisper, my voice so low I can barely recognize it. The question should really be what am _I_ doing, though.

Searching eyes that have suddenly turned a darker shade of blue, I try to find the answer to my question, although I’m pretty sure I know it already. Leaning in to her, I bury my face in her neck. I think I was trying to find some sense, the strength to stop what is about to happen, but it only makes it worse when I inhale her scent, especially when it’s accompanied by the soft sounds she makes.

“We shouldn’t do this,” I say, my face still buried in her neck. My breath must tickle her, because I can feel goosebumps under my lips.

“I know,” she says. For a split second I think she’s going to push me away and I dread it, brace for it almost, but I’m surprised when instead she grabs my shirt, untucking it only to slip underneath and scorch my skin. It seems I’m not the only one contradicting my own words. 

Her hands move up my back and that’s the end of any semblance of my intelligence, of any attempt to stop this. My hands slide down her thighs as she scratches me on the way down and I slip under and up her skirt. I bite her and she moans, she digs her fingers into me and I hiss. I bite more, she moans more as our hands move wherever they want. She palms my breasts over my bra, I palm her ass over her underwear. 

She feels so fucking good. 

Everything around us, where we are, completely unimportant to me as I lose myself to everything she’s doing, to everything she’s letting me do to her. The thought that this game we’ve been playing has gone too far doesn’t even cross my mind. 

Her left hand travels down my right arm, her nails leaving behind white scratch marks and goosebumps in their trail until she reaches my hand. She brings it to her front, guiding me under the band of her underwear. 

I lean back to look at her, to watch her as I slide my fingers down, to see the way I’m making her feel when I touch her where I’ve been wanting to ever since she left my bed.

“Fuck,” we say it at the same time, her through a whimper and me through a moan. 

The noises she makes as I move my fingers the way I remember her liking start to become too loud for me to be comfortable with. If I were in a less aroused state, I’d argue that this all would make me uncomfortable. I cover her lips with mine, swallowing her moans as well as her tongue. 

When Clarke was at my place, we fucked. A lot. We joked with each other as we fucked and switched roles a few times. One moment I’d be begging for her to push her fingers inside me, the next she’d be riding me, trying to get off on me. And we were together that night for hours, biting each other, sucking, licking and nibbling whatever soft skin we could. 

We never really kissed, though. Maybe a bite or a soft and short suck of my bottom lip or hers, but we never really kissed. 

Now that I’ve tasted, truly tasted her mouth, the sweetness of it, I don’t think I ever want to stop kissing her. Feeling the way her tongue moves with mine as well as her lips, feeling her breaths tickle me and become my own breath, drives me wild and the noises I make defeats the purpose of why I started kissing her in the first place. 

I can feel her getting close and my eyes fly open, I want to witness it, but she stops me with a hand to my wrist before I can get her there. I want to protest, argue with her that it’s dumb to stop now, but she looks at me with those dark eyes of hers that make me tremble and she smiles and pushes me backward with two fingers to my chest. 

“I thought that you wanted me to let you taste me,” she says it so slow, so fucking sexy and I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything more arousing in my life, but of course she proves me wrong immediately. “Kneel, Lex.” 

I can’t do anything but listen. I honestly can’t. 

My hands go straight for her underwear, pulling them down and watching them drop to the floor softly. I finally do what I’ve been wanting to since she was in my office last week and nibble my way up her thighs, pushing her skirt out of the way, until I reach her center, without pretense of teasing. My mouth finds her, wet and willing and my tongue immediately searching for her clit. 

She tastes so fucking good.

A hand tangles in my hair as I lick her, the moans that I tried to stifle earlier no longer having anything to drown them out. It seems that she catches herself, not wanting to be caught either, and closes her mouth. The only sounds are her staggered breathing and now muffled sounds of ecstasy. 

Her legs start shaking and I grip her ass to help keep her steady as the familiar signs of her impending climax appear. Her eyes closed, her head thrown back, her grip getting tighter on both my head and the desk behind her all painting the picture of her peak as she comes undone.

It surprises me how quiet she is able to let go. 

I try to start again, I never want to stop, but she pushes on my forehead, much like she pushed me away with her fingers to my chest. 

“I’ll fall if you keep that up.” 

Gripping the back of her thighs, I try to come up with a solution. “I’ll catch you,” I say mindlessly, attempting to move forward to continue doing what I was doing. She keeps her fingers where they are, stopping me. I almost feel like pouting, but I keep that in check at least. 

“No.” 

Standing and without thinking, I grip her waist and hoist her onto the desk with no resistance on her part. “There, now you don’t need to worry.” 

She giggles at me with a shake of her head. “Someone’s desperate.” 

I’d be more offended if it wasn’t true. 

With her on the desk, I find the height too much for me to be on my knees like I was mere seconds ago. Grabbing the office chair that I flung her in, I bring it back where it should be and sit in front of her. 

She immediately scoots to the edge of the desk and places her feet on opposite armrests. I chuckle. “Now who’s desperate?” 

She shakes her head at me again. “Whatever, stop talking,” she says, placing her hand back in my hair. 

There’s a knock on her door and my brain turns on for once during this encounter, my fight or flight response kicking in and I duck to hide under her desk. Clarke jumps down quickly, and I watch her try to make herself look as presentable as possible, smoothing her skirt before taking a seat in the chair I just recently vacated. 

Not bad for a few seconds. 

Without waiting for an invitation or anything, whoever was the reason for our separation opens the door. I can hear their heeled footsteps approaching, but not quite making it to the desk. 

“Hey, Mom!” Clarke is loud and unconvincing. 

Oh god, please don’t notice me cowering under here.


	5. Chapter Five

When I was fifteen, almost sixteen years old, I had a friend that I really liked spending time with. She made my heart flutter and for the first time made me understand the phrase ‘butterflies in your stomach.’ It didn’t take long after I got those feelings that I realized that I wanted more from her than just a friendship and I was lucky that she felt the same way, too. 

Her family was pretty conservative, as in, super. They were nice people unless you were gay because the bible told them that was a sin. They still ate shrimp and wore poly/cotton blends, so I guess they got to pick what they thought was immoral. 

At some point this girl and I had kissed. At another, it went further than that, and shirts were discarded. It was at that moment that we heard footsteps coming toward her room and I bolted to hide in her closet while she freaked out on her bed, frightened eyes darting at my location to make sure I wasn’t seen. 

I wasn’t discovered, but I did have to sit in that closet for a few minutes as her mom spoke to her and asked her about her day. It felt like fucking forever. And then, because technically I wasn’t there, I had to sneak out her window to get home. It wasn’t the most thought out plan, but I escaped unscathed. 

Right now, I feel like that frightened fifteen year old, but instead of a closet, I’m under a desk. And instead of fearing for my life, it’s just my job, but I’d still like to keep it. So, I stay as still as I can while another mother/daughter conversation happens around me where the mother has no clue that I’m here and able to hear. 

“Hi, Clarke.” 

The way Abby says her salutation seems to have the same tone as when she speaks during meetings. It’s not even close to the friendliness that she exuded when we were on the elevator together. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure, mom?” Clarke says and I know that she’s usually sarcastic if the exchanges that we’ve had are any indication, but with the way she said ‘pleasure’, it’s at another lever that even I hadn’t heard before. 

“Clarke.” It’s said in a very admonishing way. “I just wanted to see how things were going.”

Hearing the scraping of wood on carpet, I can only assume that Abby is preparing a chair for herself to sit down in and my assumption is confirmed as I see the slightest bit of light that comes through under the sliver of the desk is blocked out. 

Clarke’s foot starts tapping in between my right hand that I’m using for a bit of support and my knee. The tapping gets faster the longer the silence between the two of them goes on for and I’m concerned she’s going to hit me and then I’ll yelp and give away my position. 

Placing my left hand gently over her foot to calm it seems to do the trick, but touching her skin even under these conditions, or maybe especially because of these conditions, is a bit thrilling and I find my hand roaming. Her ankle, her shin, taking her calf in my hand while I move upward, fingernails on them as I slide back down. 

The only indication that it’s affecting her at all besides the goosebumps I feel under my fingertips is Abby’s question of, “Something wrong, Clarke?” Which actually makes me enjoy this even more. 

Clarke clears her throat as she tries to futilely swat my hand away. “Oh, um, nothing. Just have a very annoying  _ itch _ that I wish would  _ stop _ !” She tries to pinch me, but I evade that, too. “Especially with you here, mom.” The way she accentuates that last word makes me panic for all of a split second, but this is too fun for me.

“Is it something that you need me to look at?”

That makes me pause. But then I think that there’s no way in hell that Clarke would let that happen. She doesn’t want to get caught just as much I do.

With the way Clarke stiffens under my palm, I know I’m right.

I’m playing with fire here. 

“Not necessary, but thank you.” 

Clarke brings her right foot into the mix, using it to try to softly push me away, seeking out any part of me that she can to help her gain the upper hand. Or upper foot, in this case.

Ugh, it’s these kind of awesome lines that I’m wasting by not saying them out loud to anyone. 

I hear the tapping of what’s probably a pen or pencil on the desk, slow at first, but it speeds up, much like Clarke’s foot had done. The sound coming from the spot right over my head is the only noise in this office. 

It’s very… awkward, with its long drawn out pauses. 

With the tapping going on above me I wonder if it’ll be enough to drown out my movements if I do them slow enough. The way I shoved myself under here, on my butt with my legs tucked by my side could be more comfortable if I could stretch my left one out a little. 

God, hiding in a closet was a lot more luxurious than this. 

As I start to shift my legs around, still leaning forward so that I don’t bang my head against the top, Clarke starts to clear her throat, coughing when I accidentally bump one of the wheels of her office chair.

She’s great at cover ups, I wonder if she’d rat me out if we robbed a bank together. 

This new position is slightly more bearable. I’m still hunched over, but that goes without saying. My face is closer to her than it was before and I can smell her arousal. It’s intoxicating, and even with the visitor in the room I want to continue what we were doing. 

Hands move to touch her thighs, to massage them, to separate them. She tries to stop me from doing what I want by squeezing her legs together, although to me it seems only half-heartedly so when I still manage to get my head between them.

Leaving soft, in volume and strength, kisses on her inner thighs earns me a pinch to my ear, but it barely registers.

The tapping on the desk grows more frequent. 

“I spoke to Lexa.” 

The use of my name stops me and the tapping for a second.

“Who’s Lexa?” Clarke says with another pinch to my ear and I bite her in retaliation. Both for the ear and pretending she doesn’t know who I am like I didn’t just make her come in my mouth less than ten minutes ago. I feel her squirm a little. 

“The one that did your interview.” 

“Ah,” Clarke keeps up her ruse. “Right, that one.”

I run my tongue up her left thigh, tasting some of her essence that I was unable to clean up earlier. Her hand running through my hair now, almost encouraging. 

“She said that your interview was subpar.”

Okay, a six is not subpar. It’s like a ‘D’ if we’re talking about grades and that’s technically still passing. I mean, Clarke also didn’t deserve that high of a score, but I didn’t say subpar. 

“Subpar?” And she’s back to pinching me, my neck this time. I almost squeak. 

My hands start stroking her calves, my mouth still on her left thigh. She feels so good, smells so good, tastes so fucking good and all I want is for Abby to leave so I can fuck Clarke again.

Her leaving would also make me not as tense, but my mind is more focused on doing dirty things. 

“You have a reputation to uphold here, Clarke.” 

There’s a shift in the woman that I’ve been toying with, I can sense it in the air and I can feel it in her demeanor. It’s the same sort of shift that I remember happening during the interview where I called her out on nepotism.

She retrieves her hand from under the desk and I know that we’re done playing around here. I reluctantly remove myself from her, carefully making sure not to make a sound as I do so. 

“Finally, getting down to the reason for this visit.” Clarke sighs. “Can we talk about this some other time, mom?” 

“I just spoke to Marcus.” I guess for Abby, that’s a no. 

“Oh?” Clarke questions, irritation clearly in her voice. The tapping on the desk starts again, not as violently as it had been before, but still very much heard. 

“He says that you aren’t fitting into the culture yet. And that you were very dismissive of him.” 

“Mom.” Clarke sighs again and I can imagine that she’s pinching the bridge of her nose like she does when I exasperate her. “I didn’t mean to be dismissive, but when he barged in here, he wasn’t hearing me out at all. Am I not here because–” 

Now it’s Abby’s turn to sigh. “He has more experience than you. Don’t you think you should listen to him?”

I see Clarke clench her fist. “Please. Let’s do this later.” 

By the way she pleads, I take it she doesn’t want to have this conversation because I'm here more than the fact that this is a touchy subject. 

My neck is starting to cramp. 

“Fine.” 

My legs are starting to cramp. Please end this. 

“Thank you.” 

Are my toes cramping? Jesus. 

Hearing Abby’s retreating footsteps, knowing that she’s about to leave, somehow makes me cramp everywhere. It’s like my body knows that it’s going to be able to relax soon, so it seizes up because it hasn’t happened yet.

“One thing before I go, Clarke.” 

Fuck, woman. 

“Yes, mom?” 

There’s a pause before she speaks up again. “Do better.” 

I don’t move until I hear the door click shut, but when I do it’s a sweet release. Pushing Clarke’s seated form out of the way and shuffling out from where I was, I stand and stretch and it feels really good, but the tension that Abby left behind is still very much palpable. The consternation clear on Clarke’s face.

I'm unsure of what to do here, but I do know that I can’t just walk out the door, leaving Clarke a silent, seething lump, her jaw and fingers clenched, her breathing unsteady, her gaze on nothing in particular. 

And I don’t blame her. The way Abby spoke to her wasn’t nice. I hate that I had to hear it. 

“Clarke?” I try to get her to focus on me. I don’t know why, I have no idea what I’m going to say or do when I do have her attention. 

Her eyes flicker up to look at mine, anger still very much burning in them, but I know it’s not directed at me.

I shoot her a smile.

“Okay, next time, you be the one hiding under the desk.” I exaggerate a stretch and the twists of my neck to try to mime why I said what I said. 

It works and I see a familiar smirk crawl to her lips. “Next time? There’s no next time, Lex.” She lets out a breathy chuckle that hits me straight in my core. 

“Not in your office, maybe.” 

“Not in anywhere, Lex.” 

I cock an eyebrow at her to complete my look of disbelief. “Oh please, Cla.”

That draws out a hearty laugh, the smile that overtakes her face wiping away any vestige of annoyance that was left there by her mom. 

I love that I’m able to do that for her.

She stands now, slipping her previously discarded undergarment in her drawer. My mind races knowing that means she’s going to be bare under her skirt for the rest of the day.

Fuck, that’s all I’m going to be thinking about. 

Clarke hooks her arm in mine and starts walking me to the door. “I told you, ’fall into my bed so I can kick you out of it.’” She shrugs. “Also, while you were under there,” she points at her desk. “I got an Uber for you and my phone just buzzed, so.” She starts to push me toward the closed door. 

I roll my eyes and try to stand strong against her hands. “This doesn’t count.” I scoff as we push against each other. “I don’t see a bed anywhere, so.” I try to mimic her same tone. 

“It happened.  _ Get over it, _ Lex.” She giggles and I want to bite her, so I do on the hand that she has pressed against my shoulder, and she squeaks. 

“So petty,” I say, shaking my head. 

She giggles again. “Whatever, you’re the one caught up on semantics.” 

I let her push me toward the door, but I don’t open it yet.

“You’re not even going to return the favor?” I try to say it in a not so desperate way, but I don’t know if it comes out like that.

“I would, but like I said, your Uber is waiting.” She smiles saccharinely. 

“You’re gonna regret this, Clarke.” 

Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “Oh, yeah?” She folds her arms across her chest, her left eyebrow lifted. 

“You were relentless. I can be too.” 

#####

The first place I run into Clarke after breaking so many office rules is in one of the restrooms on the floor where most of the important people of the company have their offices. I, having just finished a meeting and Clarke probably having just finished visiting her mom. 

Their restrooms are more well taken care of and a lot less used. There’s never been anyone in them whenever I’ve used it before. 

This time, there is a someone. A hot someone at that.

When I walk in, Clarke is leaning on the counter, her hands there to support her. Her head is hanging for a brief moment as she inhales a deep breath, slowly exhaling before opening her pretty blue eyes.

She spots me and her look immediately changes from trying to gather herself to the playfulness I’m used to seeing. 

I choose to forgo asking her if she’s alright, her body language telling me everything I need to know. It also tells me not to bother asking, that she’d rather move past whatever’s on her mind. 

Her eyes catch mine in the mirror. “Stalking isn’t attractive, just so you know,” she says with a smirk. 

I shrug. “Then why are you doing it?” I’m going to have to come up with better replies than that if I want to win our verbal jousts. 

“Wow, Lex.” She stands up straight, smirk still in place, eyes still on me through the mirror, following my movement. “You’re so bad at this.” 

It’s been approximately two days and two hours since I was unceremoniously hidden, then kicked out of Clarke’s office. The only thing that’s been on my mind since then has been Clarke. Clarke and the way she tastes, specifically.

It’s something that I want, that I crave and it’s taken all the willpower in the world not to walk into her office and have my way with her. 

This place is as good as any and I didn’t even have to look desperate in the process. 

She starts to play with her necklace, something I once thought was a way for her to deal with stress, but know now is an invitation of sorts. To look. And maybe touch, too. I definitely want to touch. 

Walking up behind her, so close I can feel the heat from her back against my stomach, I hear her breath hitch. My hands reach out and it takes a lot of self-restraint not to place them on her. On her hips, on her arms, her shoulder, her neck. They don’t go anywhere on her body, instead they go to the counter like I instruct them to on each side of her. Not really trapping her there, she could leave if she wants to, but an illusion of a trap. 

“Words may not come to me as fast as they do to you,” I whisper into her right ear, our eyes never disconnecting, locked on each other. “But my words do help make you come fast.” 

It’s not just an empty brag. It’s the truth and she knows it. And I know she knows it when she swallows thickly, I can hear it and see it. 

When I had her on the edge of my bed, my fingers inside her as I stood between her legs, my hips helping to thrust harder into her like she begged from me, words of encouragement flew out of my lips. Telling her how good she felt the deeper I went. Telling her how hot she was with her legs open for me as I fucked her faster. Telling her how wet she made me when she looked at me the way she looked at me.

It was that last line that pushed her over the edge faster than even she was ready for.

It was glorious.

She takes an unsteady breath as I lean more into her, my front into her backside, pushing her up against the slab of granite.

“I already got what I wanted from you, Lexa.” The words she forces out are breathy and unlikely. Especially with the way her hands fly behind her to touch me, one on my hip, one to bring my face closer to hers. 

I want to touch her, lick her, kiss her, fuck her right here, but I won’t. I want to make her suffer more, I want to rile her up and do nothing. I want some sort of hot vengeance for the way she’s toyed with me ever since her interview. 

Pushing the hair from her neck to the side, I leave a light kiss before smiling devilishly at her in the mirror. 

“Okay, Clarke.”

And I leave her standing there, slightly out of breath. 

#####

“Hey.” 

I hear her mid-bite of my salad and my heart starts beating with more purpose than usual. My eyes flash up to meet blue, so electric and vibrant it takes my breath away.

Every time I see her it feels like a new experience.

God, she’s hot. 

Mondays suck, but if I get this view, I don’t mind. 

Waving awkwardly because I haven’t quite gotten my voice back yet, I try to smile as brightly as I can. 

“May I sit with you guys?” she asks, carrying a sandwich in one hand, a bottle of water and an apple in the other. 

I nod because I can’t help myself, smile still on my face, voice still gone. What the hell is wrong with me? It happens every time when she catches me by surprise that my brain chooses to take a vacation. 

Receiving a swift tap against my foot from the woman sitting across from me on this rectangular lunch table, I look at her, a lift to my brow in question as Clarke joins us.

Sitting awfully close to me on my left, I catch an almost indiscernible smirk and it makes me realize that she didn’t join us just for company. She wants to mess with me again. 

Anya’s brows furrow and I know she has a ton of questions for me. Last she knew about Clarke and me was the one conversation I had with her after Clarke’s interview.

She’s obviously seen Clarke in my office since then, but I haven’t told her about any of the things that transpired between us either of those times. 

Anya is the first to speak. “So, how’s it going, Clarke?” she starts as she bites into her sandwich. “Mess up someone else’s tight schedule lately?” 

I shoot Anya a glare, trying to convey to her that I want her to keep it civil. She sees my look, she knows my look, she chooses not to care too much and shrugs back at me. 

Clarke unwraps her sandwich and takes a bite out of it before answering. “Never ran into other people that were quite as anal as you,” she says it so casually that if the words weren’t so cutting they’d probably be forgotten immediately. “How ‘bout you, Anya? Scare anyone just trying to do their job lately?”

This is the first time in a while that Anya and I have actually had lunch in the cafeteria instead of our normal breakroom, but Anya forgot her lunch at home, so we had to. I’m secretly happy that happened now that Clarke is here. Not just because I like the way she smells, but also because I’ve never seen someone stand up to Anya in a long time.

It’s quite entertaining.

Anya shrugs and smiles. “Hopefully,” she answers and I know she’s going to ask another sarcastic question by the twinkle in her eye. “Tell us, what are some of the perks of being the VP’s daughter?” 

After overhearing Clarke and Abby’s conversation, I’m gonna guess the perks don’t outweigh the downfalls.

It’s Clarke’s turn to shrug. “Unlimited post-its?” 

It’s stupid and that’s my kind of humor, but it isn’t that funny. And I don’t want to laugh because I know that might tip Anya off that maybe there’s more to Clarke and me than I’m letting on, but I can’t help it.

I laugh more than I should, because it’s Clarke and for some reason everything is funnier coming out of her mouth. 

Clarke glances at me sideways with a stupid smile before she starts chuckling. “At least someone thinks I’m funny.” 

Anya is looking between us and I know she can tell that there’s something going on with the way her eyebrow quirks. She just doesn’t one hundred percent know what it is. 

“Whoa, whoa,” I finally speak up as I place my salad fork down. “Let’s not go too far now.” 

And again, it’s not funny. We’re not funny. But Clarke starts laughing, more than she should be I think, and I can’t help the stupid smile that I sport before shortly joining her. 

“You guys are weird.” 

“Yeah, stop being weird, Lexa.” The way Clarke says my name is so much like a child and I’m already going through a giggle fit, so that doesn’t help.

Anya rolls her eyes. “Gross.” That earns a couple more giggles before they finally die down. “Anyway, we were talking about the sexual harassment training that’s coming up.”

Oh, right. That. I hate having to set this up, even more so this year. Honestly, I feel a little bit like a hypocrite, especially after what happened in Clarke’s office and then what I did to her in the bathroom.

At least this year I don’t have to be the one in training, just preparing, prepping and laying out the bullet points. For two different groups. 

Sounds like I’m doing everything, actually. Maybe I can delegate some of the responsibilities. 

Clarke’s left eyebrow perks up and she turns her head to look at me. “You’re going to be the one doing the training for that thing?” she says it in an almost amused tone.

I think I should be offended. 

“Why do you ask like that?” 

Clarke shrugs, but then I feel her hand on my knee, slowly gliding up my fabric covered thigh where she lingers.

Anya starts talking details and it doesn't escape my mind that we’re talking about sexual harassment training while Clarke is clearly overstepping those boundaries.

If there’s anyone that needs the class, it’s her.

And probably me. 

I should practice what I preach, but when Clarke is being like this, clearly trying to turn me into an awkward mess again, I can’t just let her get away with it. Taking hold of her hand, discreetly as I’m able, I move it further up my thigh. Centimeter by centimeter, my conversation with Anya never faltering, until she’s cupping me through my pants. 

Clarke tries not to react, steeling her features and looking straight ahead as I push her further into me. Her breath catches, almost imperceptibly if you’re not looking for it. And it seems to go unnoticed by the woman sitting across from us. 

My hand leaves hers, but she keeps touching me and I realize that I played a little out of my league. I haven’t been touched by anyone but myself since Clarke and all this teasing over the past few weeks didn’t come to a climax for me like it did for her.

So, having her hand on me, her fingers moving against me even through two pieces of clothing, is enough to make me twitch. 

“You okay, Lexa?” Anya asks, brows furrowed.

Clarke’s hand stills, both of us knowing that we may have taken it too far. 

“Yeah, just had an itch is all.”

And I really need Clarke to scratch it. 

#####

Checking my phone for the time, I sigh as I let yet another Tuesday workday keep me occupied far past what should be my normal hours. Worst part is that I’m paid salary, so no overtime for me. 

Pushing the button to call the elevator to my floor, I start to think about what my mind always inevitably starts to think about lately. When the elevator doors open and I step out into the lobby, my thought-about woman is there, only a few yards in front of me. 

There’s that same laugh that I heard when she was talking to the same guy she’s talking to now. She looks the same as she did the last time, standoffish and clearly wanting to get out of whatever conversation they’re having. 

Clarke’s eyes land on mine and I understand the look for what it is, unlike the last time.

Walking over to her, I place my hand on her lower back and lean in, giving her a soft kiss on the lips.

It takes a lot of determination on my part to pull away and it doesn’t help that she tries to follow. 

“Hey, baby. You ready?”

The look on her face is almost as stunned as the man she was talking to, but she recovers and nods. Keeping my hand where it is, I lead her toward the garage.

The silence between us is awkward, in a way, but not entirely uncomfortable. 

Walking through the door that I’m holding open for her, she asks. “What was that?” She smiles. “Not that I hate when a pretty girl kisses me.” 

The fact that she thinks I’m pretty should not make me blush the way I am right now and I will it away.

“You wanted me to save you again.” I shrug.

Her eyes widen in surprise for a moment. “Yeah, doesn’t explain the ‘baby’ part.” 

I think with the word ‘baby’ she was trying to do yet another terrible impression of me. This time instead of sounding like Barney, she goes high pitched and I’m just glad for her that doing voices isn’t her day job. 

“Wow, you nailed my voice, Clarke. How’d you do that?” I say dryly, rolling my eyes.

She nods, her smile growing wider. “I’ve been practicing and it’s nice to finally be recognized.”

We giggle together before another question pops into my head. A more serious topic. “You don’t seem to like him.” She glances at me sideways and I can see the confirmation with that look. “Is he bothering you?” 

She stops walking and I do so in kind.

“I mean.” She shrugs. “He hasn’t taken no for an answer.”

My eyebrow lifts and my stomach tightens as I gauge her reaction. “Do you need me to intervene?”

Her face scrunches up in thought and dammit, she’s cute.

“Intervene, how?”

“I’m in HR, Clarke. It’s kind of what I do. Granted, they’re a different company, but I know how to get these things taken care of.” 

She shakes her head as she starts moving toward her car again with me playing a bit of catch up.

She sends me a rakish grin. “I think you claiming me the way you did should scare him off.” Her voice low. 

I at least have the decency to blush at that.

“Yeah, well.” I shrug and tug on my earlobe. “If it worked, why are you complaining?” 

Grin still gracing her lips, arched brow to accompany it. “Who said I was complaining?” 

We get to her car and just like last time, she doesn’t unlock it, no beep, no flashing headlights. Her eyes travel my body, her right hand reaching out to grip my waist, tugging to bring me close to her.

“I thought it was hot.” 

Without another word she leans in, pressing her lips against mine. This kiss is like the one in the lobby, soft and wanting. It’s almost too delicate for what we are, for the way we met, for how we’ve been behaving around each other. It’s light and wonderful and makes my head as well as my stomach spin delightfully. 

She pulls away first and the look on her face is a genuine mixture of emotions that I can’t quite place. The only one that I know for sure is desire and that’s the one I cling to when I pull her roughly back into me. 

This kiss is nothing like I’ve ever had before. This kiss is dirty and wanton and fueled by my hunger for her. It’s harsh and heavy and deep. Our tongues sliding against each other, our breaths stolen by the other and I’m tasting everything her mouth has to offer. 

And I don’t know how or when it happens that I moved her against her car, leaving her no room for escape, but I did. The only thing that alerts me to it is the thudding of her body against it and a squeak that falls out of her. 

Her hands are all over me, behind my head to pull me closer, to kiss me more profoundly. To my waist where she untucks my shirt so that she can touch my bare stomach. To my back where trimmed nails dig in and cause me to break our kiss with how much I moan. 

“Fuck,” is all I can get out before she claims my lips again. Before she’s in my mouth again, stealing my tongue for her pleasure again. 

I want her so much, to touch her so much, to fuck her so much and I make my wants known as I grind into her, my hands flying to her thighs so I can get under her skirt again.

I love that she wears skirts to work. Fuck. 

My hands’ movement to her underwear seems to trigger something in her and her own hands come down to stop me, gripping them and placing them on her hips.

She slows down our kisses, too and I don’t know if I like that, even though the languid movements of her mouth stirs something in me. The unhurried pace sparks a flame that consumes me, that I feel all the way to the tips of my toes until my core steals all the heat.

And every action in my mouth affects my clit.

When her tongue flicks against mine, when her lips capture my mine, when she bites my lip then my tongue or vice versa. It’s something I’ve never ever felt before and if she keeps it up it might just be enough to–

She stops. Everything.

And my eyes fly open, though I still only see the haze of my lust. She licks my earlobe before taking it into her very talented mouth, letting it gradually slip out before she’s whispering, “Do you want to come back to my place?” 

There’s something about the way she says it, though, that makes me think I’m not going to like it if I say yes or no.

I find myself nodding anyway. 

As soon as I feel that smirk against me, I know what she’s going to say. 

“Maybe another night. I just realized, I can’t make it.” 

She leaves me in the parking garage wondering if she just won the whole damn game. 

#####

“Lexa Woods.”

“Hey, Lex,” she says all too chipper in my ear. I’m still kind of pouting from what happened last night. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t make it through this phone call.” 

The laugh I hear through the receiver softens me a bit and I can feel a smile desperately trying to crawl on my lips, but I don’t want her to hear it through the phone. 

She doesn’t deserve it. 

“Hey.” Her voice is low and this is how she gets me. 

Every time.

All she has to do is talk to me like this and my body immediately pays attention. 

Sighing as loudly as I can so that she can really hear it, I respond. “What?” 

“It was really hard to leave you last night.” She uses the same tone. 

I try to not let her words affect me or make me less bitter against her, but it’s kind of hard when she says those things and talks like that.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” 

She lets out a shaky breath before answering. “Would it make you feel better if I told you that kiss was all I thought about last night when I made myself come?” Her voice is raspy and it warms my body and short circuits my brain. 

Somehow, it both makes me feel better and worse. I did the same thing she did, so why couldn’t we have done it together? Wouldn’t that have been a nicer way to spend the evening? 

I shrug even though I know she can’t see me. “No.” 

She lets out a breathy chuckle and my heart starts beating triple time.

“Well, what would make you feel better then?” 

I know I’m at work, but there’s something about Clarke that makes me either forget or not care that much. 

“One sec.” I place the phone down so that I can quickly and softly shut the door.

“Needed time to think about it?” She asks and I think she thinks she’s funny. I can’t believe I let her think that. 

I shake my head before remembering that I need to speak. “No.”

Her smile comes through the phone. “Then? What would make you feel better, Lex?”

“Your mouth on me.” 

The intake of breath from her is audible and it makes my mouth water. 

“Where on you?” 

I know I should stop this, that I shouldn’t take this any further because it’s just going to make things worse for me. I can’t touch myself in my office with Anya right outside and my next meeting that’s coming up soon. 

“My clit, Clarke.” Wow, really stopped myself there. Might as well continue. “I want your lips around it, sucking me like I know you can. I want your delicious tongue gliding against me, licking up every drop of me.” 

Hearing her stopped breath turn erratic is like music to my ears and it prompts me to continue. 

“I want your tongue inside me, Clarke.” Her moan into my ear is louder than I thought she’d allow herself to be. 

The thought that she can’t contain herself is so fucking sexy. 

“Do you want that too, Clarke?” 

She starts to say something, but I cut her off. “Shh, Clarke. Don’t tell me, show me.” 

Of course I know that she can’t show me over the phone, but there’s a certain hotness, I think, to being told something like that. To make her imagine that she’s here with me, mouth closed on me. And the sound she utters confirms it. 

The knock at my door is like a bucket of water that gets thrown right in my face.

I warned myself and did nothing to stop it. And now I’ve made myself uncomfortable.

Great.

“Well, that could have come at a better time.” Her breath is still gone, voice still husky, but she’s trying to make a joke.

I appreciate the thought. 

Anya pops in. “Your ten o’clock interview is here.” 

Clarke speaks up. “Could I have your ear for just a sec before that, Lex?” Her voice still hasn’t fully recovered. I love it. 

“Anya, can you give me five minutes before you send them in?” 

“Sure thing,” Anya responds before closing my door. 

“Okay, you got five, go.” 

“You’re so fucking hot, Lex.”

I can’t help the smirk that forms. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“No, just wanted you to know that. You make me so wet.” 

I chuckle a throaty chuckle. “Focus, Griffin.” 

“Right… uh.” This is one of the few times I think I’ve ever left her speechless. The last time I remember doing that to her was in the parking garage, the time before last night.

I should always remember that Clarke is a mess after dirty talk. 

She takes a breath and I can slowly hear her coming back to herself. She clears her throat. “So, um…” 

“Out with it, woman.” I chuckle as she huffs at me, though she has no right to. I used the same line on her that she did on me when I was in her office. 

“Right, um, I have the people I want to do in person interviews with you guys. Should I email it to you?” Her voice drops again. “Or do you have time for me to bring it in person?”

I shiver at that before immediately replying, “In person.”


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. *waves* I gots a tumblr that I don't know how to use. If any of you wanna hit me up there for whatever tumblr is for! It's biorcry.tumblr.com :)

One o’clock.

That’s the time I gave Clarke to bring her list of potential new hires for her team. It’s the only time I had available which happens to also be my lunch time, but my need to be eaten out eclipses my need to eat. Or however Clarke chooses to make me come, really.

Telling Anya that I had to work through lunch and couldn’t join her was harder than I expected it to be. I’ve worked through lunch before and it’s not been a problem. Anya usually says something along the lines of missing my company, but this time I fumbled through my words, maybe because I know that the only thing I’m going to be working on is Clarke. 

Her arched eyebrow at my bungling of the English language didn’t help either. But she shrugged when I finished and said what I thought she’d say. 

Now, I’m sitting here, waiting for Clarke. Waiting for one to come so that I can too, but like I’ve said before, time likes to mess with you. And the closer it gets to one o’clock, the slower time goes. I swear, it’s been 12:55 for the past ten hours. 

Tapping my fingers against my desk, checking my computer screen for the time and glancing at my paperwork is all that I’ve been doing for the past fifteen minutes. Those things and thinking about Clarke and her mouth that I never truly got to experience when we went back to my place. 

Since that night the only masturbatory fantasies I’ve had involved her. The night after her interview involved me shutting her up with my mouth, yet making her moan with my hands. The time she asked me to post the job listings, we fingered each other while sitting side by side in those chairs. When she came over to show me her narrowed down selection, I had Clarke on my desk, face buried in her. 

At least that last one sort of came true. 

Checking my screen once more tells me it’s 12:58 and I feel like banging my head against my desk, but I think that would draw more attention to me than I’d like. Instead, I tap my fingers again, only grabbing a pen and staring intently at a piece of paper when Anya appears in the doorway. 

“Okay, Lexa, going to lunch. Need me to bring back anything?” she asks. 

Shaking my head, I shoot her a grateful smile. “No thanks, Anya.” To which she nods and turns to leave, almost running right into the blonde woman I’ve been thinking about for the past three hours. 

“Whoa, sorry, Anya,” Clarke apologizes, patting the other blonde on the shoulder. 

Anya brushes the hand off. “Lexa is busy, Clarke. Maybe you can come back another time.” It’s not a question. Usually I love when Anya does this for me, especially when I actually am working and can’t talk to the people that try to see me when I don’t have the time, but I’d move all my plans around to have Clarke in my office and in me at this moment. 

Clearing my throat, “How long’s it gonna be, Griffin?” I ask, trying to steady my voice, trying to sound uninterested in what she has to offer. 

Clarke smirks, her eyes running over me, assessing me. “From previous experience on this subject,” she says as she lifts the folder she has in her hands, but we both know what she’s referring to. “Couple minutes, tops.” 

If I wasn’t already willing to let her in my pants, that statement would have sealed the deal. Something about that confidence is sexy as hell. 

Anya shoots me a look, one that asks if she wants me to get rid of Clarke anyway, but as casually as I can, I shake of my head. 

As Anya leaves, Clarke speaks louder than necessary, her eyes probably following Anya as she leans further out the doorway. “Yeah, so, this folder has this person who I thought would be a great addition to my team and–” She looks back at me. “She’s gone.” 

She shuts the door.

“Couple minutes, huh?” I ask, my brow lifted.

She smirks, walking behind my desk, then behind me. My eyes following her until they can’t. She leans in and whispers, her breath warm and exciting on my neck. “For the first one.” Her hands grip the back of my office chair. 

Just the thought of her making me come multiple times, and the way she’ll go about doing it, is enough to draw a soft moan out of me. 

She chuckles, breath still tickling me. “I’m changing my original answer to maybe a minute, tops,” she teases.

I don’t think she’s far off. 

Leaning over me, she tips my chin up, connecting our mouths immediately. She kisses me upside down and Christ, the sensation is amazing. Or maybe it’s just that it’s because she’s kissing me at an angle I’ve never been kissed before. 

Tilting my head back and up with her hand around my neck, gently so as not to cut off any air, her top lip brushing against my chin as she sucks my bottom lip into her hot and wet mouth, the way her tongue glides against mine, her teeth grazing my lips, all of it is so fucking intoxicating. It’s her mouth, but still new and I get lost in it. 

Gripping the back of her head, my hand tangles in her hair to pull her closer, to deepen the kiss. She tastes so good, feels so good, and the way she moves her tongue makes my knees weak. Thankfully, I’m already sitting down. 

Her left hand slides down past my shoulder to my blouse where she undoes the top two buttons with ease. Then lower, slipping into my bra to cup my breast, squeezing a moan and an expletive out of me that she tries to silence with her mouth. 

Pulling my lips away from her for a second, I ask, “Clarke?”

“Hm?” she says as she busies her mouth on my jawline, my chin, my ear, wherever she can reach.

“No foreplay,” I demand as I unbutton my pants. “Just fuck me,” I finish, grabbing her left hand from my tits and guiding it to my dripping wet center. 

Clarke lets out a low moan, making my whole body hum, as she slips beneath the waistband of my underwear. No fighting me, no modicum of teasing, every sense of urgency and I feel her fingers so close to what we both want–

A knock at the door steals that away from me and I feel like throwing my stapler at the sound. Even more so after Clarke’s hands quickly retreat from me.

I have never thought that murder was a valid response to anything, but this moment might change my mind. 

Clarke straightens herself out as best she can, but I’m only able to close one of my blouse’s buttons before the person who knocked opens the door without asking or announcing their presence. And with what they interrupted, I feel like having some choice words with them.

“Mr. Kane?” 

Goddammit, it’s like no one cares that I want to come. 

I have no clue what he’s doing here. The last time he had any issues that needed my attention, two people from his team needed to report their relationship and he wanted to get ahead of it. Though, whatever his problem is, I can’t really be bothered to care right now. I’m so turned on my brain still wants to throw the stapler at someone. 

Marcus looks a little caught off guard with the presence of Clarke, but it doesn’t phase him more than a split second. The only thing to indicate anything is a quick lift of his eyebrows. 

“Clarke?” He seems genuinely surprised. “I thought you said you had a lunch meeting?” 

Her right hand twitches before she answers. “This would be it,” she says with a smile that doesn’t spread across her face. It’s weird to see such a half hearted smile from her, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten one before. 

“We were discussing the potential additions for Clarke’s team,” I add and surprise even myself with how steady and calm my voice is. 

“Ah, I see,” he states. “I can come back later?”

Clarke’s gaze lands on mine and we both are thinking the same thing. What we were about to do is not happening right now. Unsure of what Kane might need, unsure of when he plans on coming around again, plus he really did kill the mood. So yeah, not happening. 

Is there a world record for being blue-vagged? I feel like I’ve surpassed it. 

Almost sighing, but trying to keep a professional decorum, I smile. “No, it shouldn’t take us much longer. How long would you say, Clarke?” My gaze back on her.

She smirks before turning back to the guy who ruined my very detailed plans. “I’m still thinking a couple minutes.” 

I don’t know what my face looks like, but I feel it contort in an unusual way, and judging by the little titter that Clarke lets out it must be an amusing expression. 

Kane checks his watch then nods at us. “I can do a couple minutes.” He smiles. “I’ll just step out, let you two finish up,” he states before doing just that. 

Would it be weird if I let Clarke actually finish me while Mr. Kane stands right outside the door? 

Probably. 

I pathetically glance at Clarke before pretending to bang my head on the desk repeatedly. The action earns me a giggle and I rest my cheek on the wooden surface, my eyes locked on hers, trying to convey how unfair this all is. 

She sucks in both her lips, a faint smile still there, the back of her fingers coming up to brush my jawline. 

“Your boss has the worst timing.” My voice barely above a whisper, making sure that only Clarke is able to hear what I’m saying.

She chuckles softly, glancing to where her boss is now before returning her eyes to me. “Yeah, he sucks.” 

Turning my head so that my forehead is on the desk now, my words aimed at the ground, I feel like pouting and I know it comes out in my voice, but I don’t care. “Is this what hell is like, Clarke?” 

She chuckles again, a little louder this time, her hand moving to the back of my head, fingers lightly scratching there. “Maybe.” 

Her fingers feel nice.

Taking a deep breath to pull myself together, I sit up straight in my chair and button my pants then the last button on my shirt. Catching Clarke’s eyes following my fingers thrills me a little. She wanted to fuck me, too. I mean, probably not nearly as much as I wanted her to fuck me, but still. 

“Do you have any free time later?” 

Her question catches me off guard, but I recover quickly. “Not until the end of the workday.” I turn my whole chair to face her. 

She crosses her arms over her chest. “What time is that?” 

“Anya leaves at around 4:30. So, maybe some time around then.” 

“Hm.” She scrunches her face, eyes skyward then turning them back on me. “Where’s your phone?” 

Picking it up off my desk, I unlock it and hand it to her. She taps away on it for a bit before her own phone buzzes, then hands it back to me. 

“Shoot me a text when you’re sure,” she says as she starts heading out. “I’m sure I’ll have a couple minutes of free time.” She smirks. 

The rest of the day is going to be slow as hell, isn’t it?

#####

_U up?_

It’s my lame attempt at a joke, but besides the day I hired her she’s been pretty responsive to my sense of humor, so no use in holding back. And it seems to work when only a few minutes later my phone buzzes. 

_Wow, that was bad,_ she replies. 

Okay, maybe work is a bit of an overstatement. 

_And yet, you still want to be inside me._

There’s no need to be shy anymore, no beating around the bush as Clarke would say. I want her, I want to be fucked by her and it’s quite obvious to me that she wants me, too. The kiss last night that ultimately led to phone sex which then led to our interrupted interaction at lunch opened my eyes to something.

She’s just as desperate as I am. 

_Are you finished?_

I don’t know how to take that; finished with my teasing texts or finished with work? I shrug before replying.

_I hear Anya getting ready to leave. So, yes._

_Are you?_

_Not quite, but you can head up whenever._

I don’t think I could gather my things faster than I am right now. 

“Hey, Lexa, do you have a minute?” Anya’s voice stops me before I can round my desk.

Trying to think up a good excuse for not having a minute, I come up empty. She knows me, she knows most of what’s going on in my life and it’s hard for me to lie to her in general. In lieu of slaughtering my words like I did this morning with her, I nod. 

“Sure, what’s up?”

She takes the chair she usually takes in the morning and I head back to sit in mine. 

“Are you okay?”

Her question throws me. Not what I was expecting her to say. Not that I had an inkling about what she wanted to talk to me about, but I didn’t think that the subject was me. 

My brows knit together, the obvious confusion written across it. “What do you mean?” 

She shrugs. “I want to make sure everything is okay with you and… Clarke.”

My fingers shoot straight for my earlobe, my knee bouncing up and down. Does she know what Clarke and I have been up to? I don’t really know what Anya could be thinking and I don’t want to give away anything without knowing what she thinks.

I try to look more confused than anything else. “What about Clarke and me?” 

She shrugs again, trying for the whole nonchalant look she always has, but for the first time she’s not quite pulling it off. “Is she threatening you or anything?” 

“Whoa.” My eyes almost fly out of my head. “Anya, no.” My fingers drop to my desk, tapping against it. “Where did that question come from?” 

“The last time you spoke about her to me, you were lamenting about possibly being fired and how much you hated being around her. And now?” She throws her hands up, the most I’ve ever seen her gesticulate while talking. “She’s barged into your office twice without asking, without checking your schedule and you’ve let her. When we were having lunch in the cafeteria, she joined us and I’ve never seen you twitch like that before.”

There’s a pang in the bottom of my stomach. She’s been worrying about me this whole time when she needn’t be and I haven’t even noticed that she felt any sort of way. I only thought that Clarke annoyed her, which is pretty much the way she feels about everybody. 

Also, if she knew why I was twitching that day, she’d kill me for having that happen right in front of her. 

“I like that you care about me.” I smile at her. 

“Don’t get used to it,” she says, but I can see the grin that’s trying to crawl to her lips. 

“Of course.” Another smile. “But, honestly? Everything is good with us. Clarke’s…” It’s my turn to shrug, my turn to be nonchalant, but the thought of Clarke and the way she keeps me on my toes heats my cheeks. “Clarke is kind of fun.”

Anya’s look changes, no longer serious like it was moments ago, recognition in her eyes like she found the answer to a riddle she hadn’t been able to solve for weeks. 

“You’re still attracted to her.” It’s a statement.

“No!” It’s too much. My reaction is too much of a dismissive statement for Anya to take it seriously. And she doesn’t if her arched eyebrow is any indication. “Fine. Yes, I have eyes,” I end with another shrug. 

Anya’s eyes narrow on me, trying to read me, from my face to my body language. It makes me a little uneasy, but nothing I can’t handle. 

“Okay.” She nods, seemingly content with my answer. “Just wanted to be sure everything’s good with you.” 

She stands, getting ready to leave.

“Thanks for caring, Anya.” And I genuinely mean it. It’s not often that she shows this level of affection. 

She waves her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. You heading out yet?”

Gotta lie again. 

“Still have some stuff to take care of.” 

She nods and starts to head out, but before she’s out of earshot she says, “Don’t overwork yourself, boss.” 

That’s Clarke’s job tonight. 

#####

Feeling a buzz in my pocket and thinking that it’s Clarke probably asking what’s taking me so long, I ignore it. I’m a second away from her office, anyway. Her door is closed and I give it a courtesy knock before opening it. 

_Fuck my life._

“Lexa?” I’m greeted with a confused smile from the wrong person standing in front of Clarke’s desk. 

The one that was supposed to be greeting me is standing behind her own desk, right arm across her chest, left elbow on it, hand supporting her chin.

“Uh, hey, Abby.” I swallow and offer a shy wave. 

“What are you doing up here?” she asks and it’s an innocent question with a pretty impure answer that I definitely can’t say. 

While I have Abby’s attention, Clarke holds her phone up, pointing at it and I get the very subtle hint. So subtle Abby turns around, looking at Clarke with an arched brow.

_Abort!_ Is the simple message on my screen. 

I now wish I had read the message before barging in here, but at least I had the sense not to start unbuttoning stuff on the way up. The only reason I didn’t, though, is because some common sense resounded in my head that maybe someone else might still be working around here. 

“Um…” 

Shit. My brain isn’t working. Everytime I’m surprised by this woman, I can’t form coherent thoughts. Brown eyes on me, studying me, freezes me up even more and I wonder if she can sense my trepidation. 

Shifting from side to side, I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The only thing I had on my mind before this mess was Clarke and what her hands could do to me. I can’t say anything about that and the fact that Abby is a bit intimidating pushes all other thoughts out. This isn’t good.

I start pulling on my earlobe. It’s not as comforting as when I was a kid. 

Jesus, how long have I been standing here without saying anything?

“Did you need to talk about the team I’m trying to build?” Clarke supplies. 

Right! Great lie. Clarke must have years of experience with that when it comes to her mom. 

“Yes!” Wow, I need to pull that back a lot. “I mean, yes. That’s what I’m doing here.” I nod, outwardly keeping my cool, inwardly freaking out. My heart beating so fast I’m afraid it’s going to burst out of my chest and hit Abby in the face. “But, if you guys are busy–” I try for the easy way out of this situation, but I’m interrupted.

“No, I understand.” And I get the second dismissive wave of my night. “I can let you guys finish up so you can head home soon.”

“Oh, I’m not–” I look at Clarke as I say my next words. “I’m not going home yet. I’ll be sticking around a while longer.”

Clarke arches a brow at me and damn with how turned on I am, how turned on I have been for what feels like forever now, just the arch of her brow is enough to make my whole being tingle. 

“It’s almost five, Lexa,” Abby says, like I don’t already know this, like five is late for me. “There’s no need for you to stay overtime. I’m sure you can finish whatever needs to be done tomorrow morning.”

“It’s kind of urgent,” I insist, trying not to roll my eyes at the way Clarke smirks when I say it. I mean, it is, especially if the feeling between my legs is anything to go by. “So,” I finish, running my eyes over Clarke, the splash of red that sprawls across her chest showing me what my wandering eyes do to her. 

“No, come on. I don’t want my employees thinking they have to exhaust themselves here. Maybe join us for dinner, instead.”

“Dinner? When did we decide to do that?” Clarke asks, shaking her head to seemingly get out of the haze my look had her in. 

“That’s what we agreed to earlier, Clarke.” 

“When?” Clarke looks positively flummoxed and it’s such a cute look on her. 

“Like, five minutes ago,” the older Griffin says before turning her attention back to me. “Join us, Lexa,” she finishes with a smile that reminds me so much of her daughter’s. 

“I don’t think Lexa can. She said she had plans,” Clarke says quickly, an almost panicked look on her face.

My eyes widen. I did have plans, but they involved Clarke, who is now talking to her mom about going out to dinner. Now my ideas for tonight no longer exist, and I don’t want her to think that the offer of me on a platter is available anymore, no matter how desperately I want it to be. So I say, “Plans? I don’t have any plans.”

Clarke facepalms.

“Wonderful,” Abby nods. It’s then that I realize, as I take in Abby’s reaction, that Clarke had just thrown me a lifeline I immediately cut the rope of. “Then join us.”

Shit. Who needs Clarke to fuck me when I can screw myself? 

_Recover, Lex!_

It doesn’t escape my mind that I’m now calling myself what Clarke calls me, but no time to ponder on that. 

“Oh, plans! Right. All my plans. _The_ plans.” I palm my forehead now to really sell it. “No, yes. I remember now,” I say. I’m clearly rambling and I’m going to blame it on Clarke. If she had taken care of things sooner, my brain would be at more than one percent capacity right now.

Clarke facepalms again. I think if this keeps up, she’s going to have a palm-shaped red spot on her forehead. 

“Don’t be silly,” Abby says. “It’s settled. I’ve got to make a quick stop upstairs, so I’ll let you girls finish what you need to talk about and then we’ll head out.” 

As soon as Abby’s out of the office, blue eyes turn on me. “What the hell, Lex?” Clarke whispers, though I can still hear the frustrated tone in it. The only thing to take the sting out of her words is the smile she can’t fight.

“This is your fault!” I try to argue, volume and tone matching Clarke’s. 

She rolls her eyes and drops her head back before crashing waves of blue over me once more. “Oh really? ‘Plans? I don’t have any plans’” she quotes me again and now the voice almost sounds like she’s trying to do the Godfather impression. 

Her impressions are getting sadder and worse. 

Placing my hands on my hips, I giggle a little. I can’t help it. “Wow, you sounded just like me. For a second there I thought I was talking to myself.” 

She giggles before shaking her head and walking closer to me, trying to insert some sternness into her words. “Stop it, I’m trying to be upset with you.” 

“Why are you upset with me? I already said it’s your fault,” I say, crossing my arms and sticking my nose up to fake an air of superiority. 

She giggles again and flicks my nose. 

“Ow, rude.” I giggle with her while rubbing the spot she flicked. 

I don’t know when it happened, but our bodies seemed to naturally drift towards each other. There’s very little space between us and I unconsciously close the gap, wanting to feel her. My hands reaching out for her, landing on her waist, fingers immediately untucking parts of her blouse and slipping underneath to feel her skin. 

The sound she utters makes my breath falter, makes my knees weak and my grip on her tightens. She leans in, her nose in my neck before inhaling deeply. “Fuck, you smell good,” she whispers, placing a soft kiss. “If my mom wasn’t here, Lex.” She bites me softly. “The things I had planned for you…” she lets that hang in the air before taking a step back, out of my grasp, out of danger of outing ourselves in case Abby comes back sooner than we think.

“Again, all your fault!” I exclaim, my arms falling to my sides. 

At my third insistence, she finally counters. “How, Lex?” Her hands on her hips. “Please, explain it to me.” 

Heading to the couch, I flop on it. “If you went home with me last night, we could have fucked each others’ brains out and then today would have just been another day.” 

She pffts me, her eyes following my movements, her body turning toward me. “Well, I _was_ trying to win this game. But you’re the one that was saying hot things on the phone this morning.” Her voice peters out a bit, her point dying slightly as her cheeks redden, lost in thought. But she recovers quickly and clears her throat. “So, you know. This is all your fault.”

Her eyes are burning into mine, her cheeks flushed, her hands tightening like that’s the only way she can keep herself from reaching out for me and fuck I want her so much right now. The look in her eyes returning my desire for her, her feet slowly advancing toward me like she can’t help herself. 

“Alright, ready?” Abby says from the doorway and it jolts me off the couch. 

I could not be less ready for this. 

Clarke looks at me, a giggle falling from her lips. Did I say that out loud?

#####

Thai food is interesting. At least what I ordered is. It’s sweet and salty and sour, among other flavors. Lots of noodles. When Abby brought it up and Clarke looked interested, I wasn’t going to throw my two cents in about having a burger or something. I was outvoted before I could even open my mouth. 

It’s not upsetting and I’m glad that I’m trying something new, but I did order what I did because Clarke couldn’t make up her mind between two dishes, though I had been eyeing the one she didn’t choose. She ended up getting the coconut curry and I got the pad thai.

The soft smile she shot me when I offered her some was a nice reward. 

With both women sitting across from me, Clarke directly in front of me, Abby off to the right, their eyes are always on me. It’s a little intimidating, like every question posed is an interrogation, but that’s in my mind, not what’s actually happening. 

“So, Lexa,” Abby starts between bites.

Oh god, I usually don’t like sentences that start like that. I liked this dinner more when they were talking amongst each other. 

“Hm?” is the only reply I can get out, considering I had just taken a pretty big bite right before she said my name. Clarke trying to hide a laugh at my pathetic reply makes me knock her with my foot under the table. 

That earns me a glare. Which only makes me want to do it again, but I refrain. 

“How are things?”

Not wanting to talk with my mouth full, but not wanting to be the center of attention for a longer period than necessary, I chew as fast as I can. It still doesn’t seem fast enough and now I feel like I’ve been chewing for a lifetime.

This is fun.

I swallow. “Things are good.” All that time making Abby wait for a reply and that is what I gave her? 

“I heard you said my interview was subpar,” Clarke says, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. 

And it probably would have been something I’d laugh at if it was just her and me. And if it had been another time. I really wish she hadn’t said it when I was drinking water in an attempt to wash down my nerves. The timing of it all causing me to choke on the ice cold liquid and the coughing fit that followed it making me want to curl up in a corner of shame. 

“Shit, Lex,” Clarke says, rushing over to me and coming to my aid, patting me on the back to help me through it. 

“Why’d you have to go and say that, Clarke?” Abby asks.

Clarke’s pats turn into soft circles as she responds, “I didn’t think this was going to happen.” 

“That’s what happens, Clarke,” Abby admonishes.

Looking up at Clarke, I see her roll her eyes before her soft gaze lands on me. “You good, Lex?” She pats me one more time. “I’m sorry.” 

Coughing one more time, I pat my chest. “Embarrassed, but good,” I say with a stupid smile. 

She giggles, her hand reaching to make contact with my cheek before looking at her mom, retracting and clearing her throat. “Cool, sorry again.” She touches my shoulder and heads back to her seat. 

“Do you prefer Lex or Lexa?” Abby asks as she sips from her glass, her left eyebrow cocked and that’s yet another look that I notice she and Clarke have in common.

My eyes dart to catch Clarke’s, trying to find some comfort in them, but they look almost as panicky as I feel. She takes a big gulp of her riesling, almost half the glass at once. That doesn’t help me much at all.

“Um…” I can feel all the blood rushing to my cheeks. “I…” 

“Is it Lexa?” Clarke elongates the last letter when she says it. “I’m sorry, this whole time I thought it was Lex,” she says, waving her hand dismissively, much like her mom had done earlier. “Now I’m the one that’s embarrassed.” 

She’s too good at lying to her mom, I think. She said it all so confidently after a mild panic. That’s pretty impressive.

It shouldn’t impress me that she’s good at lying, that should be a red flag, but it got me out of a jam and that automatically makes it kind of hot. 

“I prefer Lexa,” I say with a smile. “But, you know, if you can’t handle more than a syllable, Lex could work.” 

Both of the Griffins’ left eyebrows perk up at that. Though they both portray different things to me. For Abby, it just seems like I piqued her curiosity of me. With Clarke, it seems to have piqued her want of me, especially paired with eyes where the blue of them are barely visible.

Clarke pulls her phone out of her bag then, looking at it curiously. “Hm, I have to take this,” she remarks and I could swear that it didn’t make a noise, not even a vibrating sound. “Is that okay with you guys?”

I really don’t want to be left alone with Abby, but what am I supposed to say? 

“Of course, Clarke.” 

“Sure.” I’m pretty sure my voice cracked a little saying that. 

Clarke stands and my eyes follow her, silently pleading with her to come back already. When she’s behind Abby she points with her finger and motions with her head toward the bathroom, then winks at me. 

I gulp then shake my head with as much subtlety as I can. Clarke just shrugs back and continues walking in that direction. As much as I’d like to run off with her, it’d be rude to do that. Not to mention super obvious, I think. 

Turning my attention back to Abby, I smile and she returns it, but then nothing. I grab at my water, swirling it to occupy my left hand and watch the ice swish back and forth to try to come up with something interesting to talk about. 

Gathering some noodles by twisting my fork in them and bringing it to my lips to buy me some time, I wonder if asking her how she eats noodles is a good conversation starter. 

It isn’t. 

Maybe talk about work? 

“How’s things at the top?” That was so stupid. I feel like facepalming especially with the way Abby looks back at me, but I think that might make things worse.

Her brows furrow. “They’re alright.” A beat. “A bit of a boy’s club at the moment, but hoping to change that someday, actually,” she says with a smile.

“Yeah?” I ask, glad that we have something to talk about and also something that I am genuinely interested in. “How–”

The buzzing of my phone interrupts me, but I ignore it. 

“Sorry about that.” 

Abby smiles again. “It’s not a problem.” 

“How do you plan on changing that?” I continue my interrupted question only to have my phone buzz again. And again. 

The other woman chuckles. “Sounds important. Don’t not check it on my account.” 

Pulling my phone out, I glance at her with apologetic eyes. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course.” She gestures at my phone. “Please,” she adds before picking up her fork and poking at her food again. 

I smile at her, then turn my attention to my phone. Opening the message, my jaw drops and I can’t seem to pick it up no matter how much I try to will it. 

_I’m waiting_

_And so are they_

Those words are followed by a picture of Clarke. Her tits mostly. Half-unbuttoned shirt, red laced bra pulled down to reveal not only the ample curves, but the top half of her nipples. 

I don’t even care if it’s rude to leave.

“I hate to leave you alone, but I think I drank a bit too much water,” I say awkwardly, pointing toward the restroom. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” she barely gets out before I nod and walk as quickly and inconspicuously as I can. 

“Clarke?” I call out in a hushed voice as soon as I get inside the restroom.

A door pops open, Clarke holding onto the top of it and ushering me in with a flick of her other wrist.

Don’t have to tell me twice. 

As soon as she locks the door I have her back up against it, my mouth immediately latching on to her neck as my fingers make quick work of the rest of the buttons on her shirt. 

“Fuck,” she breathes out as she grips my hips. 

My hands run up her sides, cupping her lace covered breasts, her pert nipples brushing against my palms. Licking my way down, my lips now on her collarbone, I squeeze her chest. The sound she utters excites me and I suck hard.

She becomes less passive with that, pushing my head away. My eyes full of question. “You’re gonna bruise me.” 

Shrugging, I try to move my mouth back where it was. “So what?” 

Her palm to my forehead stops that idea in its tracks. “Lexa, my mom is already suspicious.” She taps my forehead. “What do you think will happen when we get back to the table and she sees a hickey on me?” 

I shrug again. “Guess I’ll put it somewhere she can’t see.” 

“We don’t have time for this, Lex.”

Catching me by surprise, she flips us around, the thudding of our combined weight against the door shakes not only our stall, but all the ones connected to it. We’re not being quiet, I really hope no one else is in here. 

She pushes herself against me and I let out a moan. Her body feels so good, I just wish I could take her home right now and feel her skin to skin. Instead I settle to caress her bare stomach with my fingers, although it’s not really settling when her skin pimples at my touch and she sighs the way she does.

Her lips on my neck, nibbling, teasing, while she unbuttons my pants. My hands tangle in her hair when her fingers glide through wet folds, a languid moan, a sound I don’t recognize as my own, falling past my lips. 

“Fucking finally,” I breathe out, my head falling as far back as it can against the door. 

Clarke chuckles. “I know.” She licks her way up my neck to my ear, nibbling there before whispering. “You feel.” Two fingers easily slip in.

“So.” Out.

“Fucking.” In.

“Good.” Out. 

With every thrust I find myself losing more and more of my inhibitions. With every thrust, the louder I get. Every movement inside me, the more my fingers dig into her skin. And the more moans and whimpers she gets me to produce, the steadier she keeps her rhythm.

I don’t know if it’s the fact that I haven’t come by someone else’s hand in weeks, or if it’s the teasing that led up to this point or the fact that we’re hiding and fucking in a bathroom stall making the act seem naughtier and dirtier or if it’s some amalgamation of all those things, but whatever it is, I know that I have never been fucked this good in my life. 

One hand in her hair, the other holding on to the top of the stall door to steady myself, my hips moving against her fingers to get her as deep as she can get at this angle with my pants and underwear still on, I must look a sight to her. But when she pulls back and rakes her eyes over me, it only causes her to bite her lip, groan and fuck me faster. 

“Fuck, Clarke!” It slips out. It’s loud and I hear my voice bounce off the walls. 

She tilts my chin down with a press of her thumb. “Hey,” she whispers. “Hey, look at me.” Again she whispers, but I’m concentrating on how good she feels, her words barely registering. 

She slows down and that catches my attention, my eyes flying open along with my mouth. “Don’t stop, Clarke. Please,” I plead, reaching for her arm to get her to keep going. 

“Then be fucking quiet.” 

I nod furiously, whatever she wants so that I can get what I want. The rhythm starting deliciously yet again, my moans quieted and contained in my throat so she doesn’t feel the need to stop again. Her lips on my neck, harsh while biting, gentle while sucking, trying her best not to leave a mark. 

The closer I get, the harder it is to control myself and I moan again. 

“Come on, Lex. Don’t make me stop.” 

“Please don’t.” 

My eyes on hers, begging and I can see she doesn’t want to. She bites her bottom lip. 

“Fuck, you’re hot,” she groans out before covering my mouth with her wrist, trying to halt my noises. 

Fuck that’s hot. She’s so fucking hot. 

I bite down on her offered skin to keep my sounds at bay as her fingers push against the perfect spot for the umteenth time. 

Hearing her hiss in pain, I know I’m probably biting down harder than I should, but I can’t help it. That noise, her smell, her mouth, her very adept fingers, the taste of her wrist and why it’s in my mouth filling my senses and my mind before I’m transcended to another plane of pleasure I’ve not experienced before. 

Blank.

“Lex?” It’s fuzzy, barely heard. 

The touch of lips to my face, scarcely felt, “Lex?” Again it’s fuzzy, muffled, but it registers more. 

“Hey, come back to me.”

Blinking my eyes open, my sight, my voice, my mind returning to me, I’m greeted by a smirk and soft pools of blue that immediately match her smirk when she realizes I’m cognizant again. 

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever had that reaction before,” she says with a small laugh. 

Her hands are on my waist, my own arms hanging almost helplessly beside hers. I don’t know whether to be embarrassed or happy to have been so thoroughly fucked. My endorphins are sky high at the moment, so I choose to go with the latter. 

Smiling, I say, “I’ve never had this reaction before.” And I mean that. 

I want to go home, cuddle and fall asleep, but I think that’s more the action of what just happened than the person I’m with. 

“Well, I’ll pat myself on the back later. For now, can you function?” 

Finding that funny, I giggle and it seems to be contagious because she joins me a moment later. I nod and smile, “I got this.” 

“Okay.” She nods back as she starts making herself look presentable before fixing my pants for me. She moves to unlock the door and I stumble backward before catching myself which only causes another round of giggles for the both of us. 

“You sure, Woods?” she asks between bits of laughter. 

“Yeah, feel a little like I’m drunk, but nothing I can’t handle.” 

She smiles at me while washing her hands. 

“You should come home with me. Let me reciprocate?” 

Her breathing picks up as she cocks a brow at me, but her face falls immediately while she reaches for a paper towel that I hand her. 

“Ugh, my mom insisted we ride together, though.” 

“Ride with me?” I smirk, trying for the double entendre. 

She fixes her hair and damn, she looks like she’s done absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. 

She whines a little. “If she’s not already suspicious, considering–” she gestures between us and the bathroom. “I don’t want to solidify her assumptions. She and I live so close to each other, it’d be weird for me not to go home with her.” 

“Fine.” I almost pout. “Party pooper.” 

She giggles. “You’re cute. Come out in no less than three minutes and for fuck sake, fix your sex hair before you do.” She smirks then pecks me on the lips. 

Getting back to the table, I hope I look as presentable as I thought I did while looking myself over in the bathroom mirror. I can’t really look either of them in the eye at this moment and instead turn my attention to my food. No longer hot, but not cold either, I eat tiny forkfuls. It’s still tasty, but the in-between temperature is a bit of a deterrent. 

Doesn’t stop Clarke from eating it, though. Where fucking in the bathroom stall seems to have made me somewhat lethargic, for Clarke it seems to have renewed her hunger. 

Abby looks between the two of us before turning to Clarke. “Who was on the phone, dear?”

Clarke shrugs. “No one important.”

“Important enough that you were gone for a while.” 

Clarke shrugs again, taking another bite of her food. Man, I’ve got to remind myself not to play poker with her. 

“Lexa, are you okay?” I can feel Abby’s eyes on me and I have to mentally prepare myself to make eye contact. 

Smiling as much as I can, I nod. “Yes, though I do feel as if the day is catching up with me.” I try as a way to explain away any misgivings Abby may have about my answer. 

“Ah, okay,” she says with a smile before asking for the check. “Well, I was wondering if you have some time tomorrow. I’d like to discuss something with you.” 

Oh fuck! Does she know? Am I gonna be murdered? Or worse, fired? Damn Clarke and her hot boobs! 

“Um…” 

My eyes jump to Clarke, hoping that she can pull another excuse out of her ass for me, but she looks like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“I’d have to…” Swallowing, I try to think up my own reasons. Usually saying Anya is the one that does my schedule gets me out of a lot of things I don’t want to do, but it’s not like I can do that with Abby. “...check my schedule, but I’m sure I can make some time for you.” 

“Great!”

_Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going out of the country for two weeks to visit family, so considering the type of stories I write, I don't think that I'll be updating while there. I hope that this one is good enough for the time being! 
> 
> And I hope you enjoy it :D

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know what you think. :) Thanks for reading!


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